The World As We Know It
by Max Alleyne
Summary: The End" inspired fic. Cason Butler was surviving just fine until Dean Winchester showed up with a hoarde of angry Croats on his tail and destroyed her damn near perfect setup. Dean/OC futurefic.
1. The Long Way Home

**Author's Note: **This is set in the 2014 that Dean saw, inspired by "The End." Hopefully, it's a little different from the others you might have read. If it is, let me know. If it's not, let me know. If it absolutely made you sick to read, let me know. Review please!!! =)

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Her body was aching from her head to the tips of her toes—especially her toes. She couldn't recall the last time she had awoken without that ache—it had been years, at least. But at least she was alive—though perhaps death was preferable at this point. No, she had to live; there were people counting on her. She pulled her tired body off the hard, cold ground and sat up to face the day. Ironically, the sun shone brightly and there was not a cloud in the sky.

The night before, she had settled herself on a rock ledge about ten feet off the ground to go to sleep. It kept her protected from most animals and from the evil zombie monsters of death, and though it wasn't comfy, it was safe. Pulling her binoculars from her bag, she scanned the area around her, searching for potential threats. Seeing none, she threw on her pack and climbed down from her perch.

The minute her athlete's foot ravaged feet hit the ground, they hurt. It was like fire tearing through her with each step. She hadn't changed socks or taken off her shoes in three days—too dangerous. If she didn't have gangrene in her feet by the time she returned to camp, it would be a small miracle. She had two miles to go to where she had stashed the Jeep, and then a drive back to camp. It was a long day she had ahead of her—a long, painful day—and so she soldiered on.

The chance of running into anyone—zombie-folk included—in the rural woods was very slim, but she wasn't taking any chances. She had her pistol at the ready, and another tucked into the waistband of her pants. Her machete was tucked into a sheath attached to her thigh. Five years ago, had she run into anyone looking like this, they would have thought her insane. Now anyone who didn't look like they were ready for war was either suicidal or infected with whatever the hell that virus was called.

She trudged on through the forest, taking her time to get to the Jeep. If anyone was stalking her, they weren't zombies. Zombies couldn't sneak up on a deaf man. They were more the charge in guns blazing type. No, if someone was following her, it was far more likely that they were going to kill her once she reached the Jeep and then run off with her supplies. Either way, it was unacceptable. She had people waiting on her—mouths to feed.

Two hours later—two hours that would have been cut in half had her feet not ached so horribly—she reached her destination. It was an old banged-up Jeep, well-equipped for off-roading. She pulled the branches off of the car and scraped the mud off the windows before double-checking to make sure that all the supplies were still in the backseat where she had left them. Finding them just as she left them, she breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was untampered with—the canned goods, the crackers, the canned meat, the vitamins, tampons, toilet paper, antibiotic cream, cough syrup, and everything else they could possibly need for quite some time—it was all still there. Relief flooding through her veins, she climbed into the car and cranked it.

Immediately, the Jeep roared to life and she began her journey out of the woods—dodging trees and roots the best she could. Some branches just couldn't be avoided, but thankfully didn't damage the car. On the sun visor, there were several tattered and wrinkled pictures. One was of a little girl; she had chubby cheeks and curly red hair. She was smiling a snaggle-toothed grin as she clutched a stuffed animal mouse to her chest. Beside that picture was another one of an older couple holding up a large fish. She studied the pictures with a small smile as she pulled onto a country back road and headed for home.

Even though the camp was only two hundred miles away, it would take her all day to get there. She had to avoid towns—no matter how small. There was too high a chance of running into trouble in towns and cities. She had been damn lucky to get in and out of this one with as little trouble as she had. There had been three or four zombie men, but she had quickly put them down with a clean gunshot to the head. There was always a chance that there were more—they tended to run in packs—and she wasn't going to run the risk of leading them back to the others.

The landscape rolled by her as she kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. She avoided the highway—too many accidents had happened on the highway, and there were too many potential booby traps. Supplies were in too great a demand these days, and raiders from different survivor camps would booby trap the highways to steal supplies. And the broken down cars on the sides of the road offered far too much cover to potential threats. No, she would stick with her back roads.

She wished that she could play some music, but music would cover the sound of any approaching threats or distant noises, and she needed to be as aware of her surroundings as possible. When she finally got home she would be able to bathe, lie back on her bed and listen to some music—assuming that the batteries in the CD player hadn't died. Batteries were in short supply and she wouldn't be able to spare any from this raid to power her CD player. They were needed for the broadcasting radio—not that they ever managed to pick up others on the radio, but they tried every day.

She stopped only once, to use the bathroom, and that was only when she couldn't hold it any longer. Any stops were dangerous, no matter where she was, and it was even more dangerous to be caught with her pants down—literally and figuratively. She did her business quickly and was back in the Jeep within minutes. It didn't matter that she had been sitting down so long that her butt was numb. What mattered was that she reach camp early in the night. This would give her time to stash her car under the cover of darkness and be back to her cabin before the hustle and bustle of the morning. Of course, she couldn't guarantee that people wouldn't be up waiting for her, but at least she would be able to get some sleep without throwing off her schedule too much.

The sun was sinking in the sky as she neared her destination. It took every ounce of strength in her body to keep pushing onward. She glanced at the pictures once more and reminded herself that she could rest in just a few more minutes. The Jeep bounced along through the woods back to where their camp was hidden. She pulled up to the gates just as the sun dropped below the horizon. Two men pulled the gates open and motioned her inside. She pulled up in front of the large house that served as their base of operations.

"Cason, darling! It is good to have you home," an older woman said, emerging from the workshop and wrapping her arms around the newly returned scout. It was the same woman from the picture in the Jeep.

"Thanks, Faye. It's nice to be back. Where's Kendel?" she asked, grabbing supplies from the Jeep and carrying them inside to be put away in their proper places.

"She's already in bed. Why don't you let all of us put these away. You've been gone for days now, and you deserve the sleep."

The younger woman shook her head. It didn't matter that she had never in all of her twenty-seven years of life been more exhausted than she was right then. These people counted on her; they looked up to her, and she was going to pull her weight, no matter how tired she was. "I'll go over and check on her, and then I'll be right back."

Quickly, she headed across the camp to the tiny shed that she called home. Before everything had gone to hell in a hand basket, it had been a small supply shed. It was only just big enough for the double bed and table inside it. To go to the bathroom, they had to walk to the community toilet they had put up shortly after they had formed this place. Clothes were in small baskets stowed under the bed because there was no space for them anywhere else. They had a window unit for air conditioning and a tiny space heater for heat. In the winter it wasn't enough, and they just had to add more blankets.

Pushing open the door as quietly as possible, she saw the tiny form of a little girl huddled under the eight blankets that were piled on the bed, clutching a stuffed animal tightly to her. Cason smiled and crept inside to get a closer look. The girl's breathing was deep and even, a small smile on her face as she slept. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Cason grabbed a change of clothes and crept back out of the shed and back to the main house, where everyone else was putting away supplies. Someone had moved the Jeep back into the workshop where it belonged.

"Cason, you look dead on your feet. Go to bed," Faye told her, seeing her fearless leader carrying a box of vitamins inside and setting them with the rest of the medical supplies. "You should probably take a shower first, though."

Cason stood and stared at the work being done right in front of her. All ten people who lived in the camp—Kendel being the exception—were gathered in one place putting away supplies as neatly and quickly as possible. They would be done in the next five minutes. There really was no point in staying, other than to remind everyone just who exactly was in charge. But they already knew that. No one was going to challenge her authority.

"If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anyone else," Faye reminded her. Cason nodded and headed for the bathroom, grabbing a towel out of the community basket on the way. It was a quick, cold shower, which didn't really provide much in the way of relief. It was a chance to get out of her shoes for the first time in days, though, which was quite the relief. She took extra special care in cleaning her blistered and cracked feet. Some of the blisters had blisters and were oozing. She really didn't want to think about what that meant, and she was too tired to get it looked at before bed.

Cason quickly dressed and checked back on the supplies. They were put away, and everyone had headed to bed. It was freezing as she made her way from the house back to her bed, where Kendel was snuggled warm under the covers. She slipped into bed beside the little girl, trying her best not to wake her. The girl didn't wake up, but instead snuggled closer to Cason, who smiled and wrapped her arms around her. Closing her eyes, she was asleep in minutes.

She wasn't asleep for long. A few hours later, she was awakened by someone pounding on her door. She sprang from the bed, grabbed her pistol, a machete, and a com set and opened the door. Standing on her doorstep was a young man—boy, really—who had stood guard.

"There's a group of people at the gate, and they've brought company with them?" he said in hushed tones.

"How many people?" she asked.

"Four."

"Any idea just how much bad company we're going to be receiving?"

"A lot. Like, swarms," he answered tersely.

Cason nodded and took a deep breath, preparing herself for the orders she would have to give. It was risky, but if there were swarms of infected monsters coming their way, they would need all the help they could get. "Okay, let them in—"

"They could be infected—"

"It's not like the monsters aren't coming, anyway. Get those who can't fight into basement and lock it down. Tell them to use standard lockdown procedure. I'll be out at the gates in just a minute," she said, already heading back inside. She took Kendel by the shoulder and gently shook her awake. "Kendel? Wake up, sweetheart."

Before the child was awake, Cason already had her in her arms and was grabbing things she might need. An extra blanket, a change of clothes, her favorite stuffed animal. When Kendel was finally awake enough to realize that something was wrong, she began to cry. Cason ran her hands through the child's hair, trying to comfort her.

"I know you're scared, sweetie, but I need you to be brave for me. I'm going to take you to the basement with Mrs. Faye, okay? And you're going to stay with her for a little bit. Like a sleep over," she explained, trying not to frighten the girl. Kendel nodded, eyes wide and full of tears. "Now don't cry. You'll have fun with Mrs. Faye."

Cason hurried to the main house and made her way down into the basement, where Faye was waiting. She gave Kendel a final kiss on the forehead and sat her in Faye's lap. But when she turned to leave, Kendel clutched at her sleeve, desperate to keep her there.

"Mommy! Stay, mommy!" Kendel cried. Cason hugged the little girl tightly against her one last time.

"I can't. Mommy has to go fight, okay? Remember, Mommy loves you more than anything else in the whole world, okay? I love you bunches and bunches. How much do I love you?"

"Bunches and bunches," Kendel answered, smiling a little at the silly question.

"Now give Mommy a kiss," Cason said. The little girl complied immediately, throwing her arms around her mother's neck, trying to keep her there. It was horribly hard for Cason to pull away, but battle was calling and she needed to be there. Trying to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks, she pulled away and left the room.

Just inside the gate, people were waiting for her. As soon as she arrived, she was no longer a loving mother, but a hard-hearted commander, telling her troops where to go and what to do, weighing lives and calculating risks. She sized up the new people standing before her. One was a tall heavier-set man who looked fairly solid and was carrying the largest knife that she had ever seen. One was a woman with olive skin and brown hair pulled back out of her face; she had a pistol in her hands and a wicked set of split knuckles. There was a wobbly looking man wearing a trench coat over jeans and some kind of ugly sweater; he didn't have a weapon and was appeared to be drunk. The last one appeared to be the leader. He was fairly tall with light brown hair and green eyes. He was armed to the teeth, and Cason couldn't help but wonder just how many times he had done this.

"Cason Butler," she said, extending a hand. The leader grasped it in a firm shake.

"Dean Winchester," he answered. "We've got a horde of croats on our tails. They're only a few minutes behind us."

"Croats?"

"The infected people, zombie-men?" he clarified.

She nodded. "Do you have any idea about their numbers?"

"There's a lot of them."

"Right." She turned to her watchman. "Frank, I need you to tell everyone that we have a code red and that we're using plan A-9, so stay the hell away from the fences." He nodded and tore off across the property at top speed. She then repeated the order into her radio.

"Plan A-9?" Dean asked.

"We've got several electric generators around the property. We can connect them to the fence, and it will deliver a shock strong enough to kill. All the housing and supplies are set up far enough away from the fence so that if push comes to shove, we can set off our explosives that are just inside the perimeter. This place used to be a hunting cabin, so there are deer stands and tree houses all over the property. They're perfect sniper perches," she explained.

"Have you had to use this plan before?" he asked, staring as the croats approached. They took several steps away from the fence, quickly moving out of range of any explosives that they might have to potentially use.

"Not exactly. We've never seen this many before," she answered, staring in horror at the crowd before her. "Why?"

"Because things are about to get crazy," Dean answered, and Cason could have sworn she saw a small smile on his face.


	2. Following Orders

**Author's Note: **So, thanks so much for reads/alerts/favorites.

**wizziewoo123-**I'm glad that you like the story so far. Hopefully this one will continue to be readable and pretty good. I'm glad you like Cason. I'm going to try to make her as fleshed out and un-marysuish as possible.

**Starr-Cross'd-Lover**- I hope you like this chapter as well. I'll try to keep it interesting!

**BFellow**-I tried to update as quickly as possible. Hope you like it.

Everyone else.....please review!

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Five minutes later when she was watching virus-infected zombie men try to climb over her electric fence, Cason knew exactly what Dean had meant when he said that things were going to get crazy. It didn't seem to matter that the croats had watched their companions get fried by the fence, they kept right on running at it, trying to climb over it. She watched as bodies began to pile up outside the fence, and the others just used them as stepping off points to climb over. A select few—the glove-wearing few—had made it over, but she had quickly taken care of them with a few neat shots to the chest.

"Nice shot," Dean called as he stabbed another through the chest. Despite the chaos, blood and death surrounding her, she smiled.

"Thanks. You're not doing too shabby over there," she answered. The fence was holding, but she was beginning to worry about it shorting out. She reached for her radio. "Frank, is everyone in position?" she asked into the radio.

"Yes, ma'am. We're ready for 'em." There was an edge to his voice—he was afraid, and she couldn't blame him. They had known that this day could potentially be any day, and they had trained and planned for it. It didn't make it any less scary, though. The worst part was the smell. Each one that touched the fence was electrocuted, and the smell of burnt flesh was filling in the air. She silently said a prayer of thanks for her strong stomach. Then she asked for her feet to stop hurting—she would be waiting a while for that prayer to be answered.

"Good. Stay sharp, because if this fence shorts out, I might need you to cover our asses. Is someone ready on the switch for the explosives?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thanks. Wait for my signal. Hopefully, we can keep you guys bored up there."

Even as she spoke, she was still shooting. When one pistol ran out, she pulled a pre-loaded magazine out of her pocket and pushed it into the gun so that she could continue shooting. She had plenty of blades—her handy machete was strapped to her thigh—but that was letting them get a little too close for comfort, especially given the chances for contamination. Not to mention, she was slightly more accurate with a gun.

She turned to see Dean's men doing their part, though it took two of them to take down a single croat. Of course, most people hadn't been soldiers before the shit hit the fan, and she couldn't hold that against them. The only reason she was as gun-savvy and wilderness-wise was because she had been raised by two parents who firmly believed in their right to bear arms. They had also loved camping, and Cason was now forever grateful to have been dragged on those camping trips.

Dean was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't hear him. Pulling another pistol from the waistband of her pants, she moved to stand back to back with him. This allowed her to see what was coming without having to watch her back, with the added bonus of being able to hear him. It was a wonderful technique she had learned working as a summer camp counselor when she was in high school.

"If they get past that fence, we're screwed," Dean said.

"My snipers are in place. They should be able to give us enough cover to get far enough away before they set off the charges."

"And if we can't?"

She shrugged. "I'm not letting the rest of my camp die, so if they do get over that fence and we can't hold them off, you better run like hell."

"Fair enough," he answered, cutting down another. Cason began shooting at them outside the fence. It didn't matter if they didn't get over; they were still a threat, and one less evil zombie was always a good thing.

"I should tell you…they're waiting for a signal before setting off the charges. If something happens to me and I can't signal them, the code word is Joan Crawford," Cason said over her shoulder.

"Joan Crawford?"

"You know, the actress? _Mommy Dearest_. No more wire hangers. It's also a song by—"

"Blue Oyster Cult. Very nice. Classic." She could practically hear the smile in his voice. She wasn't smiling, though. Sparks were flying and the chains holding the gates closed were getting more and more strained with each creature that threw themselves against it. It didn't look like it would hold much longer.

"The gate isn't going to hold. We should—" she began.

"Retreat. Yeah," he finished for her. He took a deep breath and yelled to his people. "Fall back!"

Immediately, they began to back away from the fence, never taking their eyes off the monsters fighting to get inside. They stepped into the forest that stood between the fence and the rest of camp. Just inside the tree line, the explosives were set and ready. Cason motioned for them to follow her and they quickly made their way out of the range of the blast. There was a decent sized shed set up—one of their many weapons stores—and specially fortified for cases like this.

"Frank, do you have a line of sight on the gate?" she asked over the com.

"Yes ma'am, I do."

"Okay, if they break through that gate, I want you to signal the explosion. We're waiting in the front weapons shed and can't see a damn thing. If they keep trickling in a few at a time, just keep picking them off, okay?" she ordered. There was a chorus of "yes ma'am's" in response.

Cason's feet were killing her, and no amount of adrenaline was going to be able to fix that. She gritted her teeth against the pain and gripped her pistol tighter. The pistol wasn't going to do much good for long-range shooting, so she tucked it away and made her way over to the large steel box in the corner. Quickly unlocking it, she pulled several rifles from the box and handed them to the four other occupants of the shed. They took them silently and went back to their posts at the two tiny windows.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Frank's voice came over the com. "Joan Crawford has risen from the grave!"

Hearing the cue, Cason dropped to the floor and covered her ears. The others followed suit just as a deafening explosion rocked the building. The glass from the windows shattered, raining down on all of them. Dean gritted his teeth as the glass cut into his exposed skin; assuming that he survived, he would be picking glass out of his scalp for days. He glanced over at the rest of the group, taking stock of injuries. Aside from minor scratches from the glass, everyone appeared to be in good shape.

"Frank, how'd we do?" Cason whispered into the radio.

"We got 'em, ma'am. The ones that didn't get blown to hell turned and hightailed it. We got the ones we could before they got out of range."

"Good work, ladies and gents. Give it another fifteen minutes or so to settle down, and then we've got to get the hell out of here. We didn't get them all and you can guaran-damn-tee that they'll be back with more later. As soon as you leave your posts, I need you to pack the essentials and load them into the Jeeps. That means food, medical supplies, and every weapon we have. Got that?" she ordered, trying to keep her voice from trembling. The adrenaline running through her veins was incredible. Again, she was answered with a chorus of "yes ma'ams."

The minute she was off the radio, she sighed in frustration. This had been the perfect hideaway. It was back in the woods, away from civilization where most of the infected had been hanging out, and they had a pretty good system going. And then, somehow, these people had found them and led the croats right to them. Now they were going to have to pack up shop and relocate. To say that she was frustrated would be an understatement.

Her mine was whirling, tying to think of another place for them to go. There was an old state park sixty or so miles away. There was a fairly high probability that people had already settled there, and she would rather not run the risk of those people being less than savory characters. There had to be some hunting lodges around somewhere. She ated to think of having to start from scratch, especially give the cold weather. They would find a way to make it work somehow. They had to, and after all, necessity is the mother of all invention.

"How many are with you?" Dean asked. She hesitated to tell him, thinking of those she was responsible for. But he could potentially help them. He was experienced fighter and would be able to help protect them. If he could help them, she had a responsibility to her people to do the best she could for them.

"Nine others. One under five, three others between eighteen and thirty, four from thirty-five to fifty, and one over sixty," she answered tersely. She saw the slight raising of his eyebrows in shock as she mentioned the youngest and oldest members of her group.

If he was shocked, he didn't mention it. "Do you have enough cars for all your people?"

"We can make it work. It won't be comfortable, but we can do it," she said quietly. "We've got a Jeep and a bigger SUV. The supplies need to be split the best we can between the two vehicles. We can't risk losing all the supplies if we lose one of the cars."

He nodded, unable to argue with her logic. As jaded as he was, he couldn't help but be slightly impressed with her. She knew her shit, he had to give her that. Of all the camps that he had run across, hers was by far the most organized and prepared. They would be good additions.

"We've got room for you…if you want it," he offered. She studied him warily, waiting for the conditions that would come with his offer.

"What's the catch?" she asked, unable to keep her suspicions to herself. "What's in it for you?"

"You've got people who can follow orders. They seem to be well-trained—"

"They _are _well-trained."

"—and this seems to be a pretty organized camp. You would be an asset to our group," he explained, ignoring her interruption.

"What about those who can't walk? We have a kid and a sixty-three year old. They can't do strenuous manual labor," she reminded him.

"Your elderly can work inside doing organizational work. We always need people to do inventory," he said.

"And the kid?"

"Assuming they don't play in the weapon stores or set the cabins on fire, we'll be fine. They won't have any playmates, but they'll survive."

It was a good offer. It gave them shelter, and more people meant more protection. When fighting, Dean's crew had been organized—safety in numbers. And this would keep her from having to go search for another camp—a process that could take months. If would work for now, at least until she could make other suitable arrangements.

"If thing don't go like we want them to…"

"You're free to leave. That last thing I want—or will tolerate—is dissention in the ranks," he answered.

"We'll do it. We'll come. But my people are going to be treated just like everyone else," she said fiercely.

"As long as they follow my orders, we won't have a problem."

"Okay. I guess we'll go tell the others." Hefting a rifle over her shoulder, she pushed the door of the shed open. Someone had turned on the remnants of the sprinkler system, keeping the fire from spreading inward to the rest of the camp. Each person grabbed as much as they could carry and headed towards the center of camp.

"Frank, get everyone in the main house for an announcement," she radioed ahead so everyone would be waiting when she arrived.

"You don't seem too happy about this," Dean commented.

"I'm just…worried. I'm about to pack up my life in three cars and move to somewhere completely different. And I'm also responsible for nine other people. If this doesn't go well and something happens to one of them, I'm responsible. This has been out home for almost five years, and we're about to leave it behind…and that sucks," she explained.

This was the only home that Kendel knew. She was taking her daughter's home away. Yeah, it wasn't ideal, but it had been safe and stable. They had a routine. She thought of all the things she would have to leave behind—her daughter's drawings taped to their walls, the toys that wouldn't fit in the car, the wall where she had marked Kendel's growth—and was saddened. But at least her daughter would be safe. She would be safe, and that was what was important.

"Well, at least they'll be alive," he said. She shrugged.

As they pushed open the doors of the main house, everyone was standing around waiting. Upon seeing Cason, Kendel launched herself from Faye's arms and across the room to her mother. It didn't matter that Cason was blood-stained and dirty again; she just wanted to be in her mother's arms. Cason pulled her daughter to her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"I scared," Kendel whispered to her mother.

"I know. But you were brave for me, and that's really good. I'm really proud of you, but mommy needs to talk to the grown-ups, okay?" Cason whispered back, setting the child on the floor. Kendel nodded and latched on to her mother's leg.

"I hate to have to tell you this, but I'm sure you're all aware that we aren't going to be able to stay here. It's only a matter of time before they come back, so we're going to pack up and get the h—and get out of here. Only bring the essentials. I want all our weapons and medical supplies. Pack the non-perishables. I want Frank, Ella, James, Cam, and Steven in the Jeep. Faye, Kendel, Alex, and Mal are in the other car with me. Get going. We leave in forty-five minutes," she said, dismissing the group. "Kendel, go with Mrs. Faye and get your stuff, okay?" As soon as the girl was gone, Frank and Dean stepped forward.

"That's a terrible arrangement, and you know it," Frank hissed. "Let me take Faye with me and you can have James; he's the best fighter other than me and you."

"No. These are the arrangements. Get your stuff and meet me at the cars in forty-four minutes and twenty-eight seconds," she responded, not even considering his suggestion.

"He's right," Dean said. "You shouldn't have the kid and the old woman in the same car. It makes you too vulnerable if something goes wrong."

"This is not up for debate," she snapped. "These are my orders, and I expect them to be followed."

"Well you're about to come to my camp, and I'm saying that his suggestion is my order," Dean told her coldly.

"You have no right to give me orders. I want them with me—"

"You won't be able to want anything if you're dead, which is exactly what you're going to be if something goes wrong and they're with you. You can't defend yourself and them—"

"I've managed before," she said quietly.

"And you almost got yourself killed. You were unconscious for two days. For the love of God, listen to what he's saying. If you get yourself killed, you're not going to be looking after anyone," Frank interrupted more calmly. Before she would argue, Franks spoke again. "It isn't good for them to see you argue. Take it outside."

Without another word, Cason turned on her heel and made her way outside, Dean closely behind her. She could tell that he was pissed at her defiance, and this wasn't boding well for her. She needed to get along with him, for Kendel's sake. She sighed in frustration as she turned to face Dean.

Thankfully, he wasn't gloating. Instead, he leaned against the side of the house and studied her, taking in her frustration. "You know I'm right."

Before she could answer, she saw Dean's eyes widen as he stared at something behind her. She felt it before she saw anything. Someone hit her in the back, dropping her to the ground as she felt a sharp pain in her side. Rolling over, she struggled to pull a knife from the sheath on her thigh as a croat tried to pull and tear at her. Getting the knife free, she slashed it across the creature's throat sending blood everywhere as he collapsed on top of her.

Dean pulled the creature off of her and dropped the body to the ground. She stared in horror at the knife sticking out of her side. It was only a flesh wound—could be stitched up in a heartbeat. What was so horrifying was the croat's blood that was all over her—it coated the handle of the knife, her hands, her clothes…everything. She stared at Dean in despair as he stared back looking in shock.

"Mommy? Mommy has a boo-boo!" Kendel yelled, watching the whole thing from a window.

"Get her away from the window," Cason ordered Dean as she reached for her pistol. "I don't want her to see this."


	3. Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note:** I got some readers, some alerts, and a few favorites--which is cool. I'm glad that y'all are reading and apparently enjoying (or at least wanting to know what's going to happen). **Wizziewoo123 and BFellow**-y'all are awesome. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and hopefully you'll continue to like Cason and Kendel. Thanks for taking the time to review! Here is another chapter for your enjoyment!!

Please review! =)

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"Mommy!" Kendel cried, seeing her mother bloody and hurt. She ran from the window to the door and pushed it open, running towards her mother.

"Kendel, no!" Cason yelled, but it did no good. The little girl continued to run towards her mother, her arms outstretched. Before the child reached her injured mother, Dean stepped in and scooped her into his arms.

"Woah, slow down there, sweetheart," he said, his voice far more cheerful than he felt. The kid was worried about her mom, and fought against him. If he wanted to diffuse the situation without the kid being traumatized, he was going to have to put the kid at ease. "That's your mom?" he asked.

Kendel nodded, her eyes wide and red curls bouncing against her shoulders. Cason lay still on the deck, watching the situation unfold as she wondered what the Hell Dean was doing. She was glad that he had kept Kendel away from her, but she wasn't sure how she felt about seeing him hold her child. It seemed odd to see a man so capable of violence talking so light-heartedly with her daughter. But then, she did the same thing on a daily basis, so perhaps it would be alright.

"Well, right now your mom needs you to go back inside, okay? She's got a big boo-boo and it hurts a lot—"

The child's eyes widened even more with worry for her mother. "Mommy needs stitches?" she asked. If that was the first thing that came to mind for her, Dean wondered how many times this kid had watched her mother get stitched back together. He didn't really want to think about the answer.

"Yeah. Mommy needs stitches, and you don't want to watch that. Can you go back inside now?" he asked her. She looked over at Cason, waiting for her mom's permission.

"Go ahead and go back inside, sweetheart, okay? I need you to go help Mrs. Faye get your stuff together so you can go on a trip. Can you do that for me?" Cason said, trying to keep the pain out of her voice so that she didn't further terrify her daughter. Kendel nodded and Dean set her down. Moments later, she was inside and Faye was escorting her away from the scene. Once she was gone, Frank stepped outside, and Dean turned to Cason.

"So, she's your daughter, huh?" he asked, his voice serious now. Cason nodded, equally as serious.

"Yeah, she is. And you better take care of her, you understand?" she said, her voice threatening. Of course, it was completely ridiculous for her to be threatening him—she was going to off herself in a minute, so it wasn't like she would be there to enforce her threat—but she did it anyway. He seemed to take it seriously as well. "Are there any kids in your camp?"

"No. We put a ban on pregnancies because we don't have the supplies to take care of a newborn or a pregnant woman, and we haven't found any kids yet," he answered shortly.

Cason nodded in understanding. It was an unspoken rule in their camp that pregnancies were frowned upon. Supplies were scarce, and there were too many risks associated with pregnancy. She had found this out the hard way when she had given birth to Kendel.

"It's okay. Kendel's used to playing with adults…or by herself. Her favorite toy is this little stuffed mouse that she has. She also likes to color, but I know that it's been hard to get paper products, so just tell her that there's no paper, and she'll find something else to do. She might try to run off at first—it's what she does when she's acting out—but all you have to do is be firm with her. Sit her down and explain that running away is dangerous and she'll understand—"

"Cason, slow down," Frank said. He was amazed at just how calm Cason was being about the whole thing. She was getting ready to kill herself, and she was giving a stranger directions on how to deal with her child.

"—She'll most likely stay with Faye, but once she knows that you're the leader, she'll probably try to bond with you. She likes to be in the thick of things; she thinks it's exciting. Guns shouldn't be an issue for her. I've taught her to stay away from the guns until she's old enough, so she should try to play with the weapons—"

"Cason," Dean said sharply. "Slow down."

Cason stopped talking and stared at him in disbelief. She was trying to give him a crash course on how to handle her daughter, but he wasn't listening. Didn't he realize how important this was? Didn't he know that she was trusting him with the most important thing in the world to her?

"What?" she snapped.

"We don't know for sure that you're infected," Frank said slowly. "Did any blood actually get into the wound?"

"Frank, I'm covered in the stuff! What are the chances that it didn't actually get in there? There's a 99.9% chance that if I'm not dead in the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to be a snarling, blood thirsty zombie-person and you know it!"

Frank looked to Dean, hoping for some support. Instead, Dean nodded and agreed with Cason. "She's right. The chance is slim that she's not infected."

"You can't come with us anyway? We know the signs of infection. If you start showing them, we'll take you out," Frank told her, desperate for something to hold on to.

"Yeah, sure. We could do that. I mean, as long as you're okay with getting halfway into the trip and then blowing my brains out in front of Kendel. Yeah, that's a great idea. Let's do that," she snapped at her second in command.

"We could quarantine you—"

"We don't have vehicles, Frank. There's fourteen of us and three cars. You know it has to be this way."

"What if I stayed behind with you? I'll stay here with you long enough to see if you're infected. If you're not, we'll meet up with them at their camp," he suggested.

"We don't know where the camp is, Frank. Look, I know you're worried about moving to a new place and getting new leadership, but you'll be fine. Dean will take care of you, and you've got the others. Now, I want you to look after Kendel and Faye. They're in the most danger in a fight, and if something happens to Faye, Kendel is going to lose it, especially since she won't have me anymore—"

She was cut off when the door burst open and Mal stepped outside. "Just warning you that Kendel's coming and she's looking for her mom."

As soon as the words were out his mouth, Kendel was there at the window, her bag in one hand, her stuffed animal mouse in the other. She looked worriedly over at her mother, who was still laying on the porch in the same way that she had been when she left moments before. The little girl looked worried and clutched the stuffed animal closer to her. Faye unlatched the window and pushed it open so that the little girl could talk to her mom.

"Mommy? I got my stuff," she said

Cason smiled and carefully stood, slowly making her way to the window. "I see that. You're going to take a trip with Mr. Dean. Are you excited?"

Kendel nodded. "Like an adventure?" she asked.

"Yes, sweetie. Like an adventure. But you have to listen to everything that Mr. Dean tells you to do, okay? He's in charge, you understand?" she explained.

"What about you, Mommy?"

Cason took a deep breath and tried to think of the best way to tell her daughter that she wasn't coming with them. How do you tell your daughter that you're going to kill yourself? Well, you don't. But how was she going to explain that she was dying?

"I can't come, sweetheart. I'm really sick," she explained calmly. It wasn't a complete lie. Besides, she had discovered long ago that it wasn't wrong to lie to her child if that's what helped her daughter get to sleep at night. "You know how we don't go near sick people?" Kendel nodded silently. "Well, I don't want anyone else to get sick, so I have to stay here. I can't come with you."

"You need medicine?"

Cason smiled sadly, fighting to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks. "There isn't a medicine for what I have. I just have to stay away from everyone else, okay? I don't want anyone else to get sick. I don't want _you _to get sick."

"I could make you chicken soup," Kendel offered. Her mom always made her chicken soup when she was sick.

"We don't have time for you to make chicken soup, but thank you. You have to go with Mr. Dean, okay?" Kendel nodded and began to cry.

"I want to stay with you," she sobbed. Cason bit the inside of her cheeks, determined not to cry. It seemed, however, that willpower was not enough, and her tears began to spill down her cheeks.

"I know. And I want to come with you. I really do. I want to come with you more than anything else in the world, but I can't. I have to keep you safe, and keep you from getting sick, which is why I have to stay here."

"But Mommy—"

"No 'buts.' You have to go. It's going to be exciting, though. You're going to get to see new places and meet new people. That's something that you haven't gotten to do before. Aren't you excited?"

The little girl shook her head as she continued to sob. Behind her, Faye was crying too. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that their little family—a patchwork family, but a perfect one—was getting broken apart. They had worked so hard to keep Kendel safe, to make sure that she knew she was loved, to make sure she had a family. But then, the best made plans of mice and men and all that.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. You're going to like it there. And Mrs. Faye will be with you. And Mr. Frank, and all the grownups here. Plus some new ones. There will be lots of people to take care of you."

"But not you," Kendel whispered, sniffling.

"No, not me. But that doesn't mean that I don't love you. Remember, I love you bunches and bunches. Always and forever, okay? You're my little girl, and nothing will ever be more important to me than you are, okay? How much does Mommy love you?" she asked, starting their silly little ritual.

"Bunches and bunches," the child answered with a sob.

"That's right. Bunches and bunches. Now I need you to go get in the car with Mrs. Faye, okay?" Cason said, trying to let her daughter go. It hurt like hell, like nothing she had ever experienced before. But it was for the best. To save her daughter, she had to let her go. And so she did.

"I love you, Mommy," Kendel called from Faye's arms. "I love you bunches and bunches!"

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Bunches and bunches."

As Faye carried her away, Cason let herself slip to the floor and cry. Her sobs were quiet—she didn't want Kendel to hear—but they were no less heartbreaking for being so quiet. Dean watched in silence as the fearless leader of the camp cried for her loss. She wasn't upset that she was dying—though she wished that she was going differently. She was upset that she had to hurt her daughter, that her daughter's last memory of her would be of saying good-bye. She had wanted a better life for her daughter, and she desperately hoped that she would get a new one with Dean.

She heard Dean giving Frank new orders for seating arrangements as they drove, but she paid little attention. It didn't matter anymore, anyway. The minute they were gone, she was going to put that pistol in her mouth and pull the trigger. Frank pulled himself together, answered with a quiet "yes, sir," and was gone.

"You don't let anything happen to her, okay?" Cason said once Frank was gone. Dean was silent. "She's never slept alone at all, so she might try to get in the bed with you. Well, probably not as long as Faye is there. But if for some reason she does, just tell her that she has to be brave and be a big girl and sleep in her own bed, and she should be fine. She's a tough kid—"

"Like her mom," Dean said quietly.

"I'm hardly a kid," Cason answered bitterly. "In a few short hours, I won't even be human anymore. Anyway, like I said, she should do fine playing on her own. She doesn't have any allergies that we're aware of, and she likes to color. Sometimes she likes to play in the bushes and pretend she's the fairy queen, so if she comes up and says that she's Queen Mab, just play along with her. She get scared when there's thunder and lightning—"

"How old is she?"

Cason smiled bitterly, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "She'll be four tomorrow. I, um, got her a birthday present. It's the soccer ball in the back of the Jeep. She's been using pinecones. I told her that we would make her cake, so she might ask about it. Just tell her that you didn't get a chance to get the supplies, and she'll understand. If she tries to give you a hard time about it, be firm with her. Don't be afraid to put her in timeout. She's been spanked, but only with a hand. No belts or paddles or switches…God, she'll…and please tell her that I'm sorry I couldn't be there for her birthday," she said.

Then, after some thinking, she thought better of it. "No, scratch that. Don't bring me up unless she does first. And then always remind her that Mommy loved her more than anything else in the world. That Mommy loved her—"

"Bunches and bunches. I got it," he finished quietly, staring down at her. There might as well not have been an knife in her side. She wasn't letting it affect her. She as far too worried about what was going to happen to that kid to worry about the knife in her side. "Anything else?"

Cason thought for a moment. "Lately she's been wanting to know about her dad because she's heard some of the others talk about their parents. She's wanting to know where babies come from and where her dad is. You should tell her that her dad loved me very much but that he couldn't stay. Tell her that he had to leave to help keep us safe."

It was funny. For such an emotional subject, she was remarkably calm about it. She had stopped crying; he couldn't see any trace of nostalgia for the father of her child. Instead, she saw the same calm and collected face that she wore when she was giving orders to her soldiers. Cason Butler was a hard woman. Well, except when it came to the kid.

"Is there anything else that you want to know before you go?" Cason asked. Dean shook his head. "Okay. Well, I guess I should say that it's been good fighting with you. And take care of—"

"I know."

"Will you do me one last favor?" Dean nodded. "There's a silencer inside on the table. Can you bring it to me, please?"

Quickly and quietly, he walked inside and grabbed the silencer from the table. He knew that everyone else was very nearly ready to go. It was a shame to leave so soon. It really was a nice place. It was the kind of place that he would have liked had he lived a normal life. Hell, he wasn't living a normal life, and he still liked it. It was strategically quite sound.

"Here," he said, handing the silencer to Cason. She took it gratefully and screwed it to the end of her pistol. With a sigh, she studied the gun. It was her favorite one: her Walther PPK, specially engraved with her initials and the saying "Dum Spiro Spero." Reading it, she laughed at the irony. Dean raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Something funny?"

"My father gave me this pistol, and he had it engraved with my initials and the phrase "dum spiro spero." It means "while I breathe, I hope." I find it ironic given my situation," she explained. Dean smiled slightly at the irony, though it didn't reach his eyes. She sighed, knowing what she had to do. "Oh, one last thing. For real this time. Will you give this to Kendel…when she's old enough?" He nodded once more. "Okay…I guess this is it, then."

She pulled her necklace from under her shirt—a crucifix—and kissed it before saying a brief prayer. She then kissed the silencer. The metal was cold against her lips and so strange tasting in her mouth. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine her little girl happy and healthy, growing up in a new, better place surrounded by loving people. Her hands were steady as she reached for the trigger. When she went to pull it, however, she found herself stopped by another, larger set of hands. She opened her eyes to see Dean crouched in front of her, his hands around the grip of the gun.

He eased the pistol from her mouth and set it on the porch beside him while Cason stared at him in confusion. What the hell was he doing? He pushed her down to the porch and bent over her, studying the wound. Behind him, the Jeeps rolled by, heading to the gate. Kendel was leaning out the window, waving goodbye to them, her face sad.

"What are you doing?" Cason asked.

"I couldn't let the kid see you with a pistol in your mouth. Besides, I'm not going to let you gank yourself just yet," he said.

"What? I'm infected!"

"We don't know that for sure. We're going to let them get a good head start on us, and then we're going to head back to camp. I've got a car stashed a little over a mile from here that we can use. If you happen to be infected, I'll take care of it before we get to camp," he explained calmly, tearing his shirt into strips to wipe away the blood.

"Why are you doing this? The probability of me being infected is ridiculously high."

"You're a good leader. Your people trust you, and it'll make the transition easier for them if you're around. Also, you've got the most organized camp I've ever seen. It's more organized than mine. And I've been looking for a new second in command."

"So you're going to run the risk of infecting yourself to get another second in command?"

"Yeah. Well, and I can't stand that heartbroken look on the kid's face. So, yeah. You're getting a chance. Now, go get cleaned up so we can stitch up that wound. If you don't take the knife out—"

"There's less chance of any of the infected blood getting in. I know. I'll be out in a few minutes."

"And I'll be waiting."


	4. Scars

**Author's Note: **Thanks so, so, so much to everyone who read/favorited/put this story on alert. Right now, I am desperately trying not to let my angst/depression/general sadness from the finale spill over into my writing, but if it gets angsty in the next few chapters (of any of my stories) try to hang in there. Please review! =)

**Nelle07-** I'm glad you like it, and amazed that it made you cry. That's really awesome that you're that into the story. Hopefully, this won't disappoint.

**UnbalancedWriter--**I don't have kids, but I spend my days with them, so when I was writing I was imagining having to explain that to them and it made me get a little teary. I'm glad that you're enjoying the story and here's an update for you. Enjoy!

**wizziewoo123--**Another update for you, as you requested. I hope you like it. I'm super excited that you like the characters and are feeling that emotional pull of them. I hope you continute to enjoy it. Thanks for the support.

**knightlight86--**Thank you so much for the compliment on my writing. It's really great to have people say that. I'm hoping that you'll like this chapter as well. Thanks for the review! =)

* * *

Cason made her way into the bathroom, knife still stuck in her side. She undressed slowly and methodically, cutting off her shirt to avoid disturbing the knife. Getting her shoes off was the worst, simply because her feet hurt so badly. She stared down at her oozing blisters and wondered how long it would take for things to get truly dangerous down there. Of course, chances are Dean was going to shoot her in the back of the head when she wasn't looking within the next twelve or so hours, so maybe she really shouldn't be worried about how disgusting her infected feet were. Her jeans shortly followed, then her blood soaked undergarments.

The water was freezing. Maybe it seemed colder now than it had earlier because she had lost so much blood, or maybe it was just because the adrenaline of the fight was starting to fade. She wasn't sure, but this time she was in pain by the time it was all said and done, and it wasn't just from the knife in her side. She scrubbed the blood away—harder than she should have, but hey, at least she was clean. Stepping out of the shower, she tried to keep from shivering as she dried her body with one of the few remaining towels. She pushed open the cabinet, only to find that they had taken the remnants of the alcohol with them.

"Dean," she called. She wrapped the towel around her as best she could, trying to protect her modesty. She heard his heavy footsteps as he crossed the house to where she was in the bathroom.

"What do you need?" he asked, standing outside the door.

"There's a bottle of bleach in one of the cabinets in the laundry room. I need you to bring it to me. And there should be some extra clothes in a basket with my name on it. Grab the warmest outfit you can find…please."

He didn't reply, but she heard his fading footsteps as he walked to the laundry room to get the bleach. He had an idea of just what exactly she was going to do, and he knew that it was going to be painful as hell. Bleach would kill damn near anything—not the Croatoan virus, but it was a precaution worth taking, maybe. He grabbed the bleach and began digging through the laundry basket with her name on it. Even her clothes were practical; black boyshort underwear, a simple but functional black bra, a heavy sweater, jeans, and wool socks. With a grim smile, he headed back to the bathroom where Cason was waiting. He opened the door and set the bleach and clothes just inside the door.

"Thanks. I'll be out in a minute," Cason said from inside.

She ran some water in the sink and poured some of the bleach into it. She pulled a clean cloth from under the cabinet and dipped it into the water. As gently as she could, she ran the cloth over every inch of skin. It stung—she had scrubbed so hard earlier that she had torn away some of the layers of skin—but she gritted her teeth and bore the pain in silence. She took special care around her wound, making sure that she got all of the blood off her skin, the knife handle—everything. She also cleaned her feet again. In the rare chance that she wasn't infected, she didn't want to die of gangrene in her feet.

When she tried to get dressed, Cason ran into a small problem. She really needed to get the knife out and the wound stitched before she dressed. It would defeat the purpose of all the trouble if she got herself killed falling on the knife while she was trying to get dressed. Plus, she didn't want to get blood on the new clothes. But she also knew that she was going to need help getting the knife out without causing anymore damage. With a deep breath, she swallowed her pride and called for Dean again. He was there in the blink of an eye.

"Yeah?" he called through the door.

"I need your help to get the knife out. It's at an awkward angle and I don't know if I can get it out without causing anymore damage," she explained. "Um…just a warning, I'm also slightly naked."

"Okay, I'm coming in on three. One, two…three."

He was true to his word. When he pushed the door open, he found her leaning against the wall, a towel wrapped carefully around her. She was white as a sheet, and clearly not happy about the situation, but she had to do what she had to do to survive. Prior to letting him in, she had managed to get her socks on, which was a small and humorous miracle in itself.

"Do you want to lay down while I do this?" he asked. She nodded and he helped her lower herself to the floor. She was shivering so badly he was surprised that she had managed as well as she had. As soon as she hit the floor, she was shaking even harder. Looking at her, Dean knew that he had to get her into those clothes as quickly as possible before she wound up with hypothermia.

Dean opened his mouth to give her warning that he was going to open the towel, but before he could do so, she pulled it open just wide enough for him to see the knife. He studied the angle of the blade for just a moment before gripping the handle. He gave her one of those looks that was clearly asking permission, and she nodded.

Without so much as a countdown, he pulled the knife from her side. If he had been expecting a pained scream, she fell shy of his expectations. With the exception of clenched fists and a slight tightening of her jaw, she showed no signs of pain. Blood began to flow freely again, and forgetting all modesty, Cason covered the wound with her towel—not even thinking about the fact that she was now completely naked in front of a man that she had known for slightly over two hours.

Dean Winchester had seen his fair share of naked women. Hell, he had probably seen two-thirds of the female stripper population in the continental United States. It was hard for him to remember a time when he hadn't been able to get a woman into bed if he really wanted to. In all of those times, he had never seen a woman with a body like Cason Butler's.

If it had just been a flat stomach or toned thighs, he probably wouldn't have noticed. After all, he had seen his fair share of nice tits in his day and was really rather unimpressed with women's bodies. So it wasn't just her toned physique that caught his attention. What caught his attention was the long twisted scar that ran across her abdomen a few inches below her belly button. It was a dark purple and ran nearly from hip to hip, twisted and puckered. In all his years of hunting, he had never seen a scar quite like that. He couldn't keep his eyes off it.

"Hey!" Cason snapped, trying to pull his attention back to her wound. "Dean! We're stopping the bleeding, remember? So that I can get stitched up?"

"Right," he said with a shake of his head. It was a wicked scar, but he managed to focus on the wound. After several long minutes, the bleeding stopped—though Cason's shivering didn't. It was hard to miss the embarrassment on her face as she asked Dean to stitch her up.

"Normally I'd do it myself, but I can't stop shivering—it's so damn cold—and I don't want to do anymore damage. Can you—"

"Yeah. No problem."

"There's gloves and needle and thread in the drawer. I don't want you getting infected," she whispered. He nodded, pulled the supplies from the drawer, and quickly got to work. She tried to hold as still as possible, but couldn't completely stop the shivering. To keep her mind off things, Cason started conversation about anything and everything she could think of to keep her from screaming in pain.

"You like the scar, huh?" she gasped.

"Never seen one quite like it, and I've been in this business for a long time."

"This business? What business?"

"Since all this happened, you've seen some strange things—" he started.

"Zombie-people kind of strange?"

"I mean all the monsters that plagued your bedtime stories. Werewolves, demons, rugarus, wendigos…I fought 'em all. I went back and forth across the country fighting other people's nightmares. That was my life before all this," he explained. "Then the Croatoan virus took hold and nothing really changed. Now, I'm just killing the infected and trying to keep my people safe."

The look in his eyes told her that there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. When he said that it was his life, she couldn't help but wonder how much of his life it had been. Killing zombies wasn't exactly something that you got into voluntarily. Until the outbreak, she never would have thought it was possible. So what had happened to him to pull him into this sort of thing? The look in his eyes told her that he had seen too much of "all this."

"So, you hunted the things that go bump in the night, huh?" she asked, just to hear herself say it out loud. No, it still seemed just as crazy. But then, she had seen things that shouldn't have been possible. But it was all very possible. Very possible and very probable.

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I was a college student. I was going to grad school to get my master's degree, actually. I wanted to be a high school English teacher. I was on a camping trip, actually, when it hit. I remember coming back to school and finding everything ransacked and the city in shambles. I managed to pick up some radio transmissions—the last news reports—about what happened. As soon as I knew, I headed back to the woods. I just picked up a few people along the way," she said with a shrug, trying to be casual about the end of the world as she had known it.

"How'd you get the scar?" he asked, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. He kept his eyes on his work, stitching the wound closed as neatly as he could. It wasn't beautiful, but it would do.

"It's actually a c-section scar. By the time Kendel was born, hospitals weren't safe anymore. We found some guy who claimed to be a doctor to deliver Kendel, but he must have stolen his medical degree off the wall of someone's office. He had no clue. There were complications and the only chance that either one of us had of surviving was if they did a c-section. I don't really know how Kendel and I managed to survive, but we did…even if he did butcher me in the process."

"You had a c-section outside of a hospital?"

"If I hadn't, Kendel and I would both be dead. Now I've got a beautiful little girl…I think a nasty scar is an okay price to pay."

Dean nodded, and with a final snip, he tied off her stitches. Noticing that he was done, she rose carefully and dressed. She had never been so grateful to be dry before. Cason pulled on the warm flannel long johns that Dean had grabbed and was thankful that he had thought to grab them. It was cold outside, and she was going to have to walk through the wilderness is freezing temps. The heavy black turtleneck sweater was snug, but not uncomfortably so. Thankfully, the jeans fit just as they should have—she could never be sure with hand-me-downs. She laced up her boots and was ready to go.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here," she said, grabbing her pack from beside the door. Dean watched in admiration as she strapped her machete to her thigh and took her shotgun in hand. "Do you have my pistols?" He handed them to her, and they were on their way.

He lead her into the woods at a brisk pace to where he had hidden his car. His baby. He knew that at the end of his long hike, she was waiting for him. He didn't have anything from his old life to hold on to—nothing was the same. Sam was gone, Cas was different, the world was crumbling around him. But he still had his baby. She might be looking slightly worse for wear these days, but she was his baby.

"How far did you say it was to the car?" Cason asked, trying to ignore the pain in her feet. It was the same as it had been on her walk this morning. Had it really been just this morning that she was on a supply run? Really? Long days were killer.

"I have it stashed a mile or so from here, but we're going to have to—"

"Take the scenic route. I know. Unfortunately, this is not my first rodeo. It'll take, what? Two hours to get there?" she estimated.

"About. By that time you should be showing—"

"The early signs of infection. I know. Just…do me the service of not shooting me in the back. And if you have to, tell Kendel that—"

"You were sick, I know."

They walked in silence for a long time, Dean leading the way. They followed the roads, but kept in the tree line. Any passing cars would be unable to see them, and hopefully any croats in the area would miss them, too. Normally, under the cover of darkness, it would be okay to walk closer to the roadside, but there was potentially a large horde of infected zombies headed their way, and Cason wasn't going to take that risk. Not if there was even the slightest chance that she wasn't infected. Her daughter was waiting for her at the end of all this, and that idea was enough to keep her going.

When they reached the car, Cason breathed an audible sigh of relief. She wouldn't be able to take her boots off until they reached the new camp and she was falling into bed, but at least she wouldn't be walking on them anymore. She was slightly less thrilled, however, when she saw the make and model of the car.

"A '67 Impala?" she commented, incredulous.

"Is there a problem with my car?" Dean asked defensively.

"I don't really have anything against muscle cars. Actually, before the shit hit the fan, I drove a cherry red '65 Mustang…but they're horrible if we have to go off road. An SUV would be much more practical."

"You're lecturing me on practicality? The same woman who wanted a child and an elderly person in the same car? You weren't exactly practical earlier."

She wanted to blurt, "that was different," but she knew that it really wasn't. Yes, her attachment was to people—her daughter, her friend—and his was to a damn car, but it was still the same result. She knew damn well that if, God forbid, anything ever happened to Kendel, she would keep her daughter's stuffed animals and clothes. The car was perhaps a reminder of better times, and she couldn't begrudge him that.

"Yeah, okay. Truce. Let's just get where we're going," she said, slipping into the passenger seat. She had to admit, she liked the car. It wasn't exactly a sleek streamlined beauty that modern drivers had been used to, but there was still something about it that she liked. It was going to get the job done. It made her think of brute force and people's primal urges. Yes, she was going to like this car.

After a few more silent hours of round about driving, Cason couldn't stand the silence anymore. She had sat in her Jeep in silence all day, and it seemed unfair that she should have to do so again, especially since she had company this time. She spoke not just to fill the silence, but to gather information as well. She had passed the three hour mark, which was how long it took for the virus to take effect. She was symptom free and in the clear. "I'm not showing any symptoms of infection, so…tell me about your camp."

"We're set up a lot like you were. We have cabins for housing, and a main storage facility and headquarters in the center. There's a gate around the outside to keep things out. We have cabins for you to sleep in, generally four to a cabin. Each cabin has weapons in it, and you're going to be responsible for keeping the weapons in your cabin in working order. We don't have hot water, but then I see you didn't either, so you should be used to it. Everyone does chores, pulls their weight. I don't tolerate slackers," he explained.

"My people won't slack off. As soon as she's old enough, Kendel will work, too."

"I already told you that we don't allow pregnancies, so either don't do it or make sure you've got birth control—"

"That won't be an issue," she said quietly.

"It won't be an issue?"

"Most of my people were there when Kendel was born. They know the dangers of getting pregnant. It won't be a problem."

"You keep talking about your people. What about you?" Dean asked.

"It won't be a problem for me, either. After the doctor butchered me, I can't have anymore children." Practically speaking, she knew that it was best this way. She knew that bringing a child into this world was a terrible thing, given the way that things were. But it still sucked. Dean glanced over from the driver's seat and saw the wistfulness in her expression. He knew the feeling. He remembered the times when he had wanted children and an apple pie life. But, alas, it was not to be.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not sure what else to say.

"Well, we've got no business bringing a child into this world anyway," she said, trying to deflect. It didn't work.

"So why did you do it the first time?" If Kendel's birthday was tomorrow and she was turning four, that would put her being born after the Croatoan virus had struck and was widespread.

Cason took a deep breath and braced herself. She knew that this would come up—it always did with new people—but she had been hoping to put it off a while longer. _Suck it up_, she told herself. He had a right to know, she supposed. And at some point, Kendel was going to want to know; it would be helpful if they put up a united front and all told her the same story. And a story it would be. A story without a grain of truth.

"I'm going to tell you this because it's probably important. One day, Kendel is going to want to know where babies come from and where her daddy is, and it would be really helpful if you knew the truth, I suppose. With Kendel…I didn't really have much of a choice. When I was hiding out and getting our camp established, I was still slightly more naïve than I am now. We took in everyone, and one day we just took in the wrong types. One of the men cornered me while I was on patrol and he raped me," she told him matter-of-factly. She spoke of it so plainly, like it was nothing.

"How did he manage to get the drop on you? I've seen you fight. It wouldn't be easy to take you down," Dean said, anger in his voice. No matter how hard the times, rape was never acceptable.

"He was a stealthy little bastard. He managed to sneak up behind me and hit me with the butt of his rifle. It didn't know me out, but it dazed me enough for him to do his thing. Three days later, I sent him on a run to the city."

"The city? That's suicide…" He trailed off, realizing that was exactly why she had sent him there.

"Yeah…can't say I feel bad about that one. Anyway, I found out I was pregnant, and it…she was the one blessing to come out of the situation. However, I'm not going to tell Kendel that her father was a jackass who brutally raped her mom and enjoyed the hell out of it. When she asks, I'm going to tell her that her father loved us very much, but that he got sick and had to go away," she said. It was amazing, the fact that she had it all planned out.

"You're going to lie to her?"

"Wouldn't you? I don't want her to think that she was unwanted. Because she wasn't. After I found out I was pregnant, I embraced it. She is going to believe in goodness and love. She's going to believe that her father was a fucking saint who rescued kittens out of trees when fire department wouldn't come. And if you tell her otherwise, I'll cut your balls off."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dean answered, unable to keep the horror off his face. Not horror that she was lying to her daughter, but horror for the fact that she had to. No one deserved to go through something like that, and it was amazing that she had come out of it as well-adjusted as she had. Her strength was fucking amazing. He tried to keep his expression in check, to disguise his horror, but it wasn't working. "We're here."

Cason smiled, seeing her daughter waiting behind a high chain-link fence. "Good. Now, wipe that expression off your face. I don't want anyone asking questions."


	5. The Tour

When Cason stepped out of the car, Kendel ran away from Faye and launched herself at her mother. Seeing a case of torn stitches in the making, Dean stepped in front of her and caught the child up in his arms for the second time in twenty-four hours. Immediately, she began struggling, trying to break free from his grip. Normally, Kendel would have enjoyed being scooped up in someone's arms—she would think it was a game—but right then, she wanted to go to her mother and he was in the way.

"Down! Put me down!" she screeched. Dean set her on the ground, but kept his arms around her.

"Kendel, you've got to be careful with your mommy, okay?" he told her. She eyed her mother with scared eyes and nodded. "You remember her boo-boo? We had to fix it—"

"With stitches?" she asked with wide eyes. Again, he wondered how many times she had watched while Cason stitched herself up. His upbringing hadn't been great—it had been downright dysfunctional—but he hadn't seen his father stitch himself up until he was at least six.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Mommy has stitches, and we don't want to tear them, okay?"

Kendel looked at her mother for confirmation. Cason nodded and knelt with open arms, welcoming her daughter. It was only after Dean was sure that Kendel understood her mother's injuries that he put her down and watched as the child stepped tentatively into her mom's embrace. Cason had none of her daughter's hesitation; she pulled her daughter in tight and showered her with kisses, a huge smile on her face. It didn't matter that her side was aching or that her feet were potentially gangrenous. What mattered was that she was there with her daughter, and they were okay.

Behind them, Faye was staring at Cason with disbelief and joy written all over her face. It was not just the joy of a follower seeing the return of her leader, but also the joy that a mother would have over the return of her daughter. There was a softness around her eyes as she smiled at Cason and Kendel. She was fond of the two of them, that much was clear. And Cason was back—alive and well and in one piece—and she wasn't going to question that.

"Mommy? I thought you were sick," Kendel said.

"I thought I was, too. But I got better. Isn't that good?" Cason answered with a smile.

Kendel nodded. " I missed you, Mommy."

"I missed you too, sweetheart. But now I'm here, and I'm not going to go anywhere for a while. Does that sound good?"

Excitement lit the child's face as she threw caution to the wind and squeezed her mother tightly. Dean knew that it hurt Cason, but he never would have been able to tell just looking at her. She never slowed down—not when her daughter was involved. It didn't matter that she had gotten less than eight hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours. What mattered was that her daughter was ready to show her part of their new home.

"Mommy, the cabins here are _huge_! _Six _people can fit in them!" Kendel said, taking her mom's hand and pulling her towards the nearest one. Cason smiled as she followed her daughter. "And they have showers that work all the time. And a whole cabin for the medicine! It's huge, Mommy…"

Kendel continued to chatter a million miles a minute as she pulled Cason towards one cabin in particular, Dean and Faye following closely behind. The front door was scratched and dented, but it closed all the way and didn't have any holes in it—unlike some of the doors at their previous camp. There were lots of windows, some of which had been boarded up. After studying them for several minutes, she figured out that the boarded up windows were the ones that were not located strategically. There were too many to guard safely, or some that were too close together.

The inside of the cabin was clean, but cluttered—something not to be unexpected in this sort of situation. There was one large bed pushed into the corner, piled high with blankets. There was a set of bunk beds pushed into another corner, and several mats on the floor. By Cason's quick count, there were seven people crammed into the cabin—three in beds, and three on the floor. Clothes were in baskets underneath the bed or on shelves mounted on the wall. It was definitely going to be a tight fit, but it was better than living in a shed that was barely big enough for a bed.

And there was a bathroom in the cabin. A peek into the bathroom showed that it was small—just a toilet, a sink, and a tiny shower—but it was enough. It sure as hell beat having to walk across camp just to get a shower. There was a neat row of shower shoes against the wall, and another neat row of toothbrushes beside the sink. She recognized Kendel's sparkly pink one immediately, sitting beside Faye's white and purple one. She smiled.

"This is one of the bigger cabins," Dean whispered. "We haven't had time to get any of the others cleaned out since you got here. We'll get them cleaned out, and set them up for you as soon as possible."

"Thanks, but don't feel like you have to rush. It might help everyone get into the swing of things if they're sharing a cabin with people who know the ropes," she answered as she watched her daughter bounce on the big bed. Kendel was smiling and laughing with abandon; it seemed a shame to put an end to it, but rules were rules. "Kendel? What have I told you about jumping on the bed?"

Immediately, the little girl stopped bouncing, knowing exactly what she had done. She looked around guiltily, her gaze settling on her feet. She was blushing, but couldn't keep the mischievous smile off her face. It was one of those smiles that people have when they know they're in trouble, but they just can't keep it off their faces.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," she whispered.

Cason sat on the edge of the bed and held her daughter's hands. "Kendel, you know that I want you to have fun. But we have to be safe, too. What happens if you fall off the bed? You could get hurt, right? And we don't want that, do we?"

Her voice was gentle as she tried to explain to her daughter why she couldn't jump on the bed. Dean watched, curious. In this moment, Cason was everything that he had always imagined a mother would be. Gentle but strong, protective but fun. She was a good mother, and a good leader. It was something amazing to see.

Kendel shook her head. "No, ma'am. I'm sorry, Mommy."

"It's okay. I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?" her mother answered, kissing the girl on her forehead. Kendel nodded and climbed off the bed, dragging Cason into the bathroom.

"We have shoes to wear in the shower! See!" Kendel said, pointing to the row of flip-flops beside the shower. "Mr. Chuck said that there might be some pink ones for me to wear."

"Pink ones, huh? We'll have to see about that. Who is Mr. Chuck?" Cason asked.

"He handles most of our inventory stuff," Dean whispered. Raising his voice, he said to Kendel, "Do you want to introduce your mom to Mr. Chuck?"

"Yeah! He was in that really big inbatory cabin!"

"That's the inventory cabin," Faye informed them, a small smile on her face.

They followed Dean out of the cabin, Kendel clutching her mother's hand and talking the whole way. Her excitement was contagious, and Cason found herself itching to find out more about her new home—both for tactical purposes, and so that she would know where to find things. As they walked, Dean explained their setup in greater detail.

"In the center, we've got the three most important buildings that you're going to need to know: that's the supply building," he said, pointing to the smallest of the three cabins in the center. It was still a fairly large cabin; easily twice the size of the one that she had just been in. "That's where we keep all our supplies—food, paper items, new clothes that haven't been worn. That's also where we do laundry."

They stepped into the cabin and found herself completely astounded at the collection of supplies they had. She saw everything: toothpaste, soap, shampoo, caulking for leaky pipes, cotton balls and q-tips, batteries, lighters, gasoline and oil. Everything that they could ever need to live comfortably—as comfortably as they were able given that the world was shot to hell—was right there in that cabin. In the corner, there was a little man with thick, square-framed glasses sitting at a desk, bent over a ledger.

"Mr. Chuck! My mommy's here! Mommy, this is Mr. Chuck!" Kendel said, pulling excitedly on the man's arm. He looked up from his desk and studied Cason intensely. Then, with a smile, he stood and extended his hand in greeting. He seemed like a fish out of water, like he had no idea what to do with the small, bubbly child tugging at his sleeve, but he seemed genuinely pleased to meet Cason.

"Hi, Mr. Chuck. I'm Cason," she said. He gripped her hand tightly and smiled awkwardly at her.

"Hi. You and Dean didn't happen to bring anymore toilet paper with you, did you?"

"Can't say that we did. Sorry."

"Well, we can't expect miracles, I guess," he joked, though part of Cason was wondering just how serious he was. The one thing that they seemed to be lacking was paper products—toilet paper in particular—and the thought of those consequences made her cringe. At least they had plenty of soap.

"So, what do you do exactly, Mr. Chuck?" she asked.

"He counts all the stuff! Everyday!" Kendel piped up, completely fascinated by the prospect. "Do you think I could help him, Mommy?"

"Sweetheart, you can only count to ten," Cason said with a smile.

"Nun-uh! I can go to twelve! And I'll learn!"

Cason looked at Chuck, who nodded his consent. Then she looked to Dean, who was observing them with a sort of interested detachment with a tiny smile on his face. She didn't have to ask the question—it was apparent in her expression—and she waited in anticipation for his response. He grinned and nodded his permission, and Cason smiled as well. The whole exchange passed unnoticed in front of Kendel's eyes, so when Cason told her daughter that she and Mrs. Faye could help Chuck in the supply cabin, the girl was elated.

"You start bright and early tomorrow morning. Can you do that?" Dean said seriously, though there was a light in his eyes that said he was joking and completely enjoying it. Having a kid around completely changed the atmosphere—they were serious about the safety of the camp, about the important things, but he was playing along with the child. Dean Winchester was _playing_. With a _child. _

"Uh-huh! I'll be the best! I promise!"

"Let's show Mommy the mess hall," Faye suggested. It was difficult to pull the child out of the supply cabin, but they managed it. It was not without difficulty, however. Cason knew for a fact that Kendel had never seen so many supplies in one place before, and she was quite certain that her daughter had never even seen some of the stuff in there during her short lifetime. It was a child's dream.

Trudging through the mud—feet aching and completely exhausted—Cason made it to the mess hall. The cabin appeared to be divided into two rooms: the kitchen and the eating area. The two rooms were separated by a long counter, and in the eating area there were rows upon rows of tables. At the front of the room, there was a crudely built platform. She assumed it was for when they held meetings; the speaker would stand on the makeshift stage and address everyone else.

Naturally, the first thing Kendel did upon entering the room was run to the stage and shout, "Ladies and Gentlemen!" as if she were the ringmaster of a circus. It was part of the game that she played with her mother. Cason had never been able to take her daughter to the circus, and so they had played make-believe and had one of their own. This was the first stage that Kendel had ever seen in her life, and was wonderfully exciting for the child.

"This is the dining hall," Dean said quietly. There are a lot of us, but we make it fit. Everyone takes a shift helping to make dinner, and everyone eats. We can't afford for anyone to lose their strength because they don't like what we're serving. When we have a camp meeting, this is where it is. Any private meeting that you're called to will be in my cabin."

"Understood," she answered. It would have seemed like she was being short with him, but he saw her watching Kendel run and play on the stage and knew that she wasn't. She had heard every word he said, as any seasoned soldier would, but she was also watching her daughter, as any protective mother would. "We eat what is put in front of us. When do I have kitchen duty?"

"I'll have Chuck work you into a schedule. How are you in the kitchen?"

"I can get by. Don't expect anything gourmet, though."

The kitchen looked like the average industrial kitchen, complete with a large stove and oven, a refrigerator and freezer—though she wasn't sure how reliable those would be—and several large sinks. There were drawers filled with utensils, and cabinets full of dishwashing soap. It was far more stocked than hers had been. She recognized the woman that had been with Dean when they had arrived at camp earlier working in the kitchen, putting away food. And if she wasn't mistaken, the food she was putting away appeared to be apple pie.

"Risa," Dean called. "Let me get a piece of that pie before you put it away. And one for Cason, too."

The woman—Risa, apparently—rolled her eyes and got him two slices of pie. She looked less than pleased, however, when she handed one to Cason. Cason just accepted the pie and thanked her quietly before tearing into it. She hadn't eaten anything in…so long that she had lost count of the hours, and she was starving. It wouldn't have mattered if the pie were made out of cardboard. She was so hungry, it was the best thing she had tasted in her life. Dean was clearly enjoying the pie, too. The look on his face could only be described as orgasmic.

Kendel was still playing on the stage, performing a circus act for Faye. Faye gestured that she would stay with the little girl while Cason continued the tour with Dean. Slipping out the back door in the kitchen, they snuck over to the medical cabin. Inside, there were several cots set up in the main room. Shelves lining the walls contained various medical supplies: alcohol, antibiotics, tweezers, gauze bandages, antifungal cream—it was all there. In the bathroom, there was more—mostly bleach. The sink was filled with surgical instruments—scalpels, forceps—all being cleaned with a bleach and water solution.

"That's a lot of surgical supplies," she whispered.

"Skirmish with some demons. Didn't go as well as it should have," he said tightly. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it.

"As well as it should have? Before a few hours ago, I didn't even know that demons existed. How can you expect them to hold up in a fight when they don't all know the truth?"

"They knew what they were getting into. We trained for it. It's another part of life around here. We have daily training sessions. Guns, blades, hand-to-hand, demon lore…we do it all. I'll talk to Chuck and have him—"

"Get me a schedule," she finished for him. "I got it. This is a really nice set up you've got here. I'm assuming the fence runs all the way around?"

"Of course. That was a nice trick you had with the generators. Next time we go out, I'll have to see if we can find one or two."

"They're heavy…it'll probably take up all of one of the vehicles. If there are any farms in the area that have been abandoned, you might be able to find one there, assuming that someone else hasn't stolen it. It would be a good investment to make, though." She walked around the cabin, studying everything in amazement. She had run a good camp, but this was just extraordinary. It was well stocked, appeared to be well-run, and was definitely about to be better home for her daughter than the one she had been able to provide. But at least Kendel would get to experience it.

"Are you up for the perimeter tour?"

"Can I come?" Cason spun on her heel as her daughter's voice came from behind her. The little girl was standing in the doorway, eyes bright with excitement.

"It's a long walk. Are you going to keep up?" Cason asked, already knowing that even if Kendel couldn't keep up, she was going to let her daughter go.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then yes, you may come," Cason said, holding her hand out. Faye pointed back to the cabin and headed back in that direction, leaving Kendel alone with Cason and Dean. They set out along the camp, walking the iron fence. There was a little stream that ran through the camp—small enough, however, for no one to sneak in. She was willing to bet her slice of apple pie that the water was newly blessed every change of watch.

"How big is this place?" Cason asked, taking it all in. She could see three cabins that appeared to be unoccupied from where she stood. She wondered how many other cabins there were that she couldn't see.

"Technically, the whole camp is a hundred and sixty-five acres, but we only fenced in seventy-five of those. There are wooden fences up around the entire thing. If we ever run across more fencing, we might fence in the whole thing. Two layers of iron would be great demon protection…and ghosts."

It was so odd hearing him talk casually about demons. Defenses and fortifications and fight training…she could handle all of those. But demons and vampires and all that jazz…it was still strange to her. Of course, with everything that she had seen in the past five years, she should know better than to doubt it. After all, she had seen some mighty strange things.

Kendel was staring at her apprehensively, scared of the things they were talking about, so Cason decided to change the subject. "You said that private meetings would be in your cabin. Where's that?"

He pointed to a cabin that was set apart from the other occupied ones. She should have known that he would isolate himself. "That one is mine. We'll clean out the one next to it for you two."

"Can Mrs. Faye live with us, too?" Kendel asked with a yawn. Her eyes were falling closed even as she continued to hold her mother's hand and walk on.

"Mrs. Faye can live with you if it's okay with your mom," Dean answered. "Are you tired?"

She shook her head, fighting sleep, and tiredly leaned against her mother. Cason fought back a groan as the child accidentally stepped on her swollen, blistered feet. Normally, she would have picked up her daughter by now and carried her, but she couldn't afford to tear her stitches. So instead, Dean picked up the child and held her safely in his arms.

"Well, let's get you back to bed, then. It's late and I'm sure it's past your bed time," he told her.

"But I'm not sleepy, Mr. Dean…"

"Well your mom is, and she's had a long day. Because of her boo-boo, she'll need you to make sure she gets safely in the bed. Can you do that?"

"Yeah…I'll make sure she brushes her teethies and washes her face and goes right to…sleep," Kendel said with a big yawn.

"Good. Now let's get your mom back to camp."

With Kendel on one hip and Cason walking beside him, they made their way back to their temporary sleeping cabin. On the way, Cason found that she didn't mind Dean holding her daughter. He was gentle and kind, and had shown more than once that he knew how to handle children. He didn't look like the type to have any of his own, especially given his ban on pregnancies, and wondered how he got so good with children. But it didn't really matter. What mattered was that he was good with her daughter and could keep her safe.

Yes, she found that Dean Winchester was a very interesting man, after all.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, thanks to everyone who has been reading my story. It makes me smile. This chapter is a bit of an intro to Dean's compound and the way that things go. I hope you enjoy and please review. Reviews light a fire under my butt to update faster.

**wizziewoo123**-This chapter hints at Dean groupies just slightly, but I definitely plan on getting to that [hopefully] in the next chapter. Hopefully, you'll find it amusing. I just had to get this introduction to camp out of the way first. Thanks for the review!

**Nelle07-**I'm super glad that you like Cason and think that she's a strong character. I wanted to make her strong, mostly because I really am not a fan of damsels in distress. Hopefully you'll continue to find her entertaining.


	6. The Mud and the Blood and the Shoes

It was two weeks before Cason was healed enough to start hand-to-hand combat training—not that she really needed it. In the first week, Dean had finished showing her their setup. He had tested her at the rifle range, and she had proved that she was just as capable with a gun as she was, and better with a bow. She silently said a prayer of thanks to her father for all the times he had dragged her on a bow hunting trip when she was a child. Through the whole affair, Dean's face had been a mask of stillness, showing no emotion despite the fact that he was impressed.

They had set to work cleaning out a cabin for her—the others had bunked with members of Dean's camp and were getting along just fine. Everyone from her camp had helped, and several from Dean's camp had as well. They scrubbed the cabin from top to bottom, clearing out all the dust and cobwebs, as well as the smaller rodents that had taken up residence in the rafters. By the time they were done with it, it smelled clean and bright—though that most likely wouldn't last long.

Kendel and Faye were the only ones Cason was sharing the cabin with, though she had volunteered the extra space to anyone who wanted it. She had seen eager looks on some of the younger girls' faces, but none of them had stepped forward or come to her to ask for the space. Later in the week, she had found out why.

"There's something wrong with her," Risa had told the others who had kitchen duty with her. "I watched her get stabbed with a knife covered in croat blood, and somehow, she didn't get infected. There's got to be something demonic going on with her."

Cason hadn't said anything because she had Kendel with her, and she wasn't going to make a scene. The practical part of her knew that if she was going to step up as Dean's second in command, she needed to squash the rumors, to show that she wasn't going to take any shit from anyone. But she also understood that people were not going to take kindly to a stranger coming in and giving orders like she owned the place. Finding the right balance was going to be the challenge, a challenge made greater by Risa's growing attitude.

It didn't take a genius to understand that Risa was jealous, though she had no right to be. Any and all time that Cason spent alone with Dean was strictly business. They discussed possible improvements to be made to the grounds, raiding plans and which supplies would be easiest and best to ascertain. They watched the camp sparring sessions and firearms practice to determine who their best soldiers were and how her people matched up with his. She sat through the same lessons about demons, vampires, and the other various supernatural creatures that they were bound to run into at some point. Thankfully, Kendel played quietly with her stuffed animal during the lessons and remained blissfully ignorant of the evils that surrounded her, much to the dismay of some of the others—lead, of course, by Risa.

"The rules are that we all have to go and pay attention. Why should the kid be an exception? She needs to know what's going on out there. Her ignorance could get her—or the rest of us—killed," Risa had been whining to the other women in the kitchen one night.

Having overheard, Cason smiled coldly and made her way to where the other woman was standing. "Excuse me, Risa. I couldn't help but overhearing, and I thought I heard you questioning my decisions as a parent. Now, I know that you would never do such a thing, so I'm sure I must be mistaken." Her tone was one of ignorance, but her expression was a warning. Risa had just stared at her, refusing to back down—though she did look confused when Cason laughed at her. Oh, the pettiness of people.

It was after the demonology lessons, when Kendel would weave through the crowd to find her mother, that things got interesting. In the beginning, Dean picked up the child just so that she wouldn't jump on Cason and tear her stitches. Every time, he would step between them and scoop her up in his arms, spinning her around, before calmly reminding her not to jump on her mom. Now, even though Cason was well on her way to healing, he still picked up Kendel and spun her around. Kendel had come to expect it, and he never disappointed her. If she was tired, he would carry her back to their cabin and set her down on the front porch before watching her tiredly walk inside and get ready for bed.

After the first few times it happened, Cason came to expect it too. One day, she called him on it and asked, "Why are you doing this? I know you have other things you could be doing other than looking after four year old?"

He looked at her like she was an idiot. "You're my second in command. If I keep you happy, you cooperate. Playing with the kid makes you happy. Or, at least it keeps you from being pissed at me." Before she could question him further, he was gone.

But apart from the affection that he had for Kendel, Dean Winchester wasn't showing favorites. It was clear that he respected her abilities as a leader. All the hoops that everyone else had to jump through, she did too. She did her duty in the kitchen, serving food to the others—though she had to strongly resist the urge to spit in Risa's food. She took her patrol shifts, despite her aching, bloody feet. After Dean had announced that she was his second in command, she had answered every single question that she had been asked. And now the time had come to jump through the hoop of hand-to-hand combat training.

So here she was, standing in the muddy training area, listening to Risa on a power trip while she gave instructions to everyone else. Thankfully, Kendel and Faye had stayed in today—it was raining and wet. Kendel wouldn't understand the concept of practicing fighting, and she didn't want to give her daughter the impression that someone was trying to hurt her, or that she was trying to hurt someone else.

"…because we have someone new joining us today, I'm going to test their skill level first. Then I will put you with sparring partners and we'll get started," Risa said, though Cason tried so hard to tune her out. "Cason. Step into the ring."

Cason stepped forward out of the crowd and into the circle used for demonstration. The minute one foot was in the circle, Risa was on her. She stepped on one of Cason's feet and hit her across the face with a fisted hand, making her see stars. It didn't help that the ring she was wearing dug into her cheek. She forced herself to recover long enough to figure out where Risa was standing and what any potential weaknesses were. As they circled one another, Cason noticed that Risa didn't appear to be favoring any certain body part, and her form was good. No, she was just going to have to take her down the hard way.

Cason had resolved not to hurt the other woman, but threw that resolve out the window when Risa lashed out at her with a kick aimed at her knee. She was able to dodge, but had the kick landed, she could have been crippled for life. In dodging the kick, however, Cason had put herself off balance—which is exactly what Risa had wanted. Cason had been trying to hide her agonizingly infected feet, but being off balance in the mud was not exactly helping her do so, and Risa had noticed the weakness.

Risa stepped in close to throw another punch, but Cason caught her arm, pulled her closer, and head butted her in the face. Blood sprayed from Risa's nose—which was now clearly broken—but she refused to stop. She began throwing blind, sloppy punches, desperately trying to make contact with her opponent. With the other woman reeling, Cason took advantage and went on the offensive, kneeing her in the gut. At the last second, Risa caught Cason's leg and pulled it closer to her, sending Cason to the ground. The breath rushed from her lungs as she landed flat on her back, and then the other woman was on top of her, going for her eyes. Cason blocked the attempted eye gouging and bucked her hips, trying to put Risa off balance. It worked, and she managed to get free. Before the other woman had a chance to regain her bearings, Cason landed three well-aimed kicks to her kidneys.

"Bitch!" Risa screamed as she struggled to her feet. Before she had a chance do so, Cason hit her in the ears with cupped hands. She grinned, knowing that Risa's ears would be ringing from the blow for at least the next few hours, if not longer. Growing tired of the fight, Cason moved swiftly so that she was behind her opponent, wrapped her arm around her neck, and tightened it into a choke hold. Risa continued to struggle, and successfully slammed her foot down on Cason's. Blinding pain tore through her and she immediately let go.

Seeing her chance, Risa backhanded Cason across the face and stomped on her other foot. Desperately trying not to let the pain get to her, Cason bit her lip and took a deep breath. Risa, however, was not going to allow her to take that time, and shoved her to the ground. Finding herself on her back, Cason instinctively wrapped her legs around the other woman's hips and brought her own arms up to cover her face. Risa continued to try to land punches on the soft tissue of Cason's belly, but to no avail.

As Risa grew more and more frustrated, she got more and more sloppy. Her punches lost any sort of power they had, and she got close enough for Cason to land one or two good punches. She watched as rage grew more and more evident in Risa's expression. Unable to land her punches, she began to fight dirtier than she already had been, taking fistfuls of mud and smearing them all over Cason's face. Normally, this would have just been annoying, but the mud was getting into her mouth and nose, making it difficult to breathe. Risa then fisted her hands in Cason's ponytail and began to slam her head into the ground. Cason managed to grab one of Risa's arms and twist it behind her in a shoulder lock, rendering the woman helpless.

"You're good," Risa said, though the words sounded like venom on her lips.

"The best. And that's without fighting dirty," Cason answered, releasing her. A crowd had gathered to watch them fight, and all were applauding. The applause quickly turned into gasps of shock when Risa spun and hit Cason one last time in the face. Having had enough, Cason hit her back—once, twice, three times—before elbowing her in the back. Risa went down like a rock and Cason had her in a choke hold once more.

"Tap out," Cason ordered.

"Why? I can still breathe. For being the best, you can't even do a choke right."

"It's called a blood choke, dumbass. It's great because the victim thinks they're okay because they can breath, when you're really cutting off bloodflow."

Hearing Cason's explanation, Risa's eyes widened just briefly before she was unconscious. Cason took no care with her and dropped her into the mud and stalked off. The crowd that gathered had fallen silent. They all new that Risa had gotten what was coming to her, but they didn't dare say anything. They were all too stunned to speak. Some were staring at Cason with admiration, some with fear, but she knew for certain that she had their respect.

"All hand-to-hand training sessions are suspended for the day," she heard Dean tell the crowd. "Someone get Risa back to her cabin. She'll be fine when she wakes up." Never mind the broken nose. He didn't sound very sympathetic, and it made Cason smile.

Having made his announcement, Dean quickly caught up with his second in command. "You're going the wrong way."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You need to be headed to the med cabin. That was quite the fight."

"I let her get the drop on me, and then I played with her too much. I should have used the blood choke the first time and just been done with it. And I'm fine. It looks a lot worse than it really is."

"So I didn't see her slamming your head into the ground? And that isn't blood coming out of your nose? If you walked into your cabin right now, you would scare Kendel to death. Come to the med cabin and get cleaned up. That's an order," he said, his voice firm.

She nodded and followed him to the med cabin, limping the whole way. She could feel the wetness in her shoes—her feet were soaked—and she wasn't sure how much of it was water and how much of it was blood. He pushed open the door of the medical cabin and she stepped inside. Thankfully, the building was empty, so no one heard her cry of pain as she stepped wrong on her feet.

Cason stepped into the bathroom and washed the mixture of mud and blood off her hands, revealing just how injured she really was. Her face was a mass of bruises—one highlighting her cheekbone, another under her eye and across her nose. Her lip was swollen and split. On her hands, her knuckles were bruised and bleeding, but she didn't really feel it. She would have to do a more thorough inspection when she was in the shower later, because she was sure she would have bruises underneath her clothes.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Dean had everything ready that they would need: gauze, alcohol, tweezers, bandages, and ice. She sat down on one of the cots and took up some gauze in her hand, using the alcohol to wipe her wounds clean. Before she could touch the cloth to her face, however, Dean batted her hands away.

"What?" she asked, cranky.

"You're only getting the surface clean. You've got to get deeper. Besides, you can't even see the ones on your face," he answered, taking the cloth from her and dabbing at her cheek. He watched the muscles in her jaw tense as she felt the sting of the alcohol. "You let her rough you up pretty bad. You're lucky your cheek doesn't need stitches. Go ahead and ice your hands. After I'm done with your face, you can ice it."

"I know. I wasn't expecting her to come after me the minute I set foot in the circle. But I won't make that mistake next time."

"There won't be a next time," Dean said tersely. Before she could ask, he explained. "You're better than Risa. She doesn't have anything to teach you, so you'll do hand-to-hand with me from now on."

She sighed quietly and nodded. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what was best. Even if Dean hadn't pointed it out, she would have suggested that she find someone else to spar with. Clearly, her sessions with Risa would end bloody, and wouldn't be good for either one of them. But whether or not it was best, it didn't make her any happier about the arrangement. This didn't escape Dean's notice.

"You don't like this plan?"

"No, it's the right plan. It's the only way that I'm going to be able to spar with someone and get anything out of it, but it's going to look like special treatment. I…I hate to say this, because I feel like a whiny teenager, but I've been trying to fit in since I got here. I'm trying to convince everyone that I'm one of them, that I'm not trying to change things or take anything from anyone…and sparring with you is going to undermine all of that. All anyone is going to see is the new girl training with their fearless leader," she explained.

Dean didn't say anything for a minute while he carefully put butterfly closures on the cut on her cheek. He pulled one of her hands from the ice bucket and set to cleaning it intently, pulling bits of rock and bark out of the gashes in her knuckles. It was a long minute before he said anything.

"I brought you here because you can benefit this camp. You're smart. You're strong. You're probably the best tactician I've ever seen. I didn't bring you here so you could fit it. I brought you here to change things, to make things better. And if Risa's jealousy is going to get in the way, you're not what I'm looking for."

She sat there in silence for a minute—at least until he pulled a particularly large piece of something-or-other out of her knuckles, and then she cried out in pain. It was strange to hear the words aloud; she had known that he had brought her there because she was a potential asset, but it was still strange to hear herself talked about that way, especially to her face. Although, after all the gossip she had heard about herself in the past two weeks, it was a blessing to have someone at least say it to her face.

"I'll catch less flak about it if I just step up and embrace it, won't I?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. If you owned the position, no one was going to question you, and that was what she needed to do.

"No one is going to try to confront you like Risa did if you embrace it. But the gossip? You're a woman and my second, so the gossip and the jealousy is never going to stop—"

"Wow. Someone has a high opinion of himself, doesn't he?" she teased playfully. She saw a small grin and a slight raising of his eyebrow that made her think that there must have been a time before he was this serious all the time. Despite her pain, she grinned.

"I'm just warning you that I might have a fan club."

"Yeah, you were a little late on that one. But I can handle it."

"Clearly. Now, off with your shoes," he ordered. She stiffened, knowing that as painful as if was to have her shoes on, it was going to be even more painful to take them off. They weren't in good shape, and she didn't want him to see them, either.

"She stepped on my feet. They hardly need to be examined," she said, trying to avoid it. It didn't work.

"Cason," Dean whispered seriously. "You've been limping since the day I met you, and that was a good two weeks ago. Risa noticed it enough to use it against you in a fight. You've been sneaking up here to take care of them after lights out, hoping that no one will notice. Now take your damn shoes off and let me see your feet."

She studied him for a long moment. There was no judgment in his face, just concern for her damn feet. How had he known that she had been sneaking out after hours to take care of her feet? She had made damn sure that no one was watching. The only person who might know was Faye, and she wasn't going to tell anyone.

Dean could see her puzzling over his remarks. "I can see your door from my window. May I?" he asked, nodding at her feet. He watched her from his window? She nodded hesitantly. As gently as he could, he lifted her feet onto the cot and began to untie her boots. He took extra care to loosen the shoe as much as he could before removing it. Even so, she still cried out in pain. Both socks were a red-brown color—stained with blood and mud. When he peeled her sock away, she couldn't bite back the scream that crossed her lips.

"Jesus," Dean whispered in shock as he saw her feet. Skin had literally peeled off of her foot when he removed her socks. She had pus oozing from what appeared to be old blisters, and what had probably started as small cracks from dry skin had turned into deep cuts across the bottom of her feet. The toe nails on some of her smaller toes had softened and flaked off. Others had become ingrown and infected. It was a wonder she could even walk.

"Why didn't you get this treated earlier?"

"There were too many other things to get done, and we can't afford for me to take a day off to nurse my feet. Besides, I can still walk."

"Just barely. Foot infections are bad news, and you had no business letting them get this bad. I'm going to have to open some of these sores and drain them. What if you had gotten gangrene? There's not a whole lot we can do about that. I'd hate to have to tell Kendel that her mom died from an ingrown toe nail. It's way too Bob Marley. "

She laughed even as she gasped in pain as he submerged her feet in a bowl of rubbing alcohol. It took everything in her to keep from yanking her feet out of the bowl. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and tried to keep talking. It only got worse when he pulled out a needle and started draining the fluid from her feet.

"Bob Marley, huh? You don't really strike me as the Bob Marley type," she commented.

"I'm not. But Cas has grown fond of him. By the way, you might want to keep Kendel away from his cabin."

"Why?"

"Unless you want to explain to her what an orgy is—"

"An _orgy_!" Her shock was enough to distract her from the fact that her feet her and Risa had nearly tried to beat her to death just forty-five minutes prior. "Like a real, honest-to-god, everybody's fucking everybody else kind of _orgy_?"

"Yeah. Just so you know," Dean said, trying to keep from laughing at her. Her shock was charming. Most of the women in camp wanted in on the orgies just to prove to him how sexually experienced and adventurous they were.

"the Wait, how do you know—ouch!—about them? You haven't partaken—"

"God no! I value myself more than that."

"You mean you value your dick more than that."

Dean just shrugged and continued to bandage her feet. By the time he was finished, her legs looked like giant Q-tips. Over Cason's loud complaints, her shoes were thrown in the trashcan. "We'll get you another pair from the supply cabin," he'd promised.

"How am I supposed to walk back to my cabin with all these damn bandages on my feet?" she demanded.

"You're not."

And then be picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She laughed all the way back to her cabin, and didn't care who was watching.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, this chapter was longer, but I didn't want to cut it off**. **I also apologize if the bit about Cason's feet didn't gross you out too much. But anyway, thank you for reading/putting this story on alert/favoriting and above all...reviewing! If you take the time to read...please review! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! =)

**Nelle07**-Yeah, Dean is awesome. I'm trying to find a good line between the hard Dean that we see in "The End" and the Dean that we know and love. I think that the softer Dean is still in there somewhere, it's just a matter of bringing it out. Thanks for the review!

**Starr-Cross'd-Lover**-I'm glad glad glad that you love it. Your enthusiasm is really encouraging and definitely pushes me to write faster. I hope you like this chapter!

**wizziewoo123**-So, now we see Cason deal with Dean groupies...I hope you liked their confrontation and the direction that Dean and Cason are going. I feel like it takes a strong woman to be with him in part because of the groupies. Anyway, thanks for you reviews and I'm hoping that you like this chapter.

**UnbalancedWriter**-Finally we see Cason get her feet taken care of! I wanted to use that as a little stepping stone to put Dean and Cason together without it being all business or a life or death situation. Thanks for the feedback, and I hope that this chapter is satisfying for you.

**supernaturalobsessed**-I'm glad that you like the story. I try to update as soon as I can, and I hope you continue to like the story. Thanks for the support!


	7. Bedtime Discussions

**Author's Note: **I am so so so sorry for the delay. Family visits take up writing time, apparently. Who'd have though? I promise to do better, especially after I got more reviews for the last chapter than any of the previous ones. Thank you guys so much. If you read, please please please review and let me know how I'm doing.

**-**I really love being able to play with the croats. They are one of my favorite baddy minions on the show. It also means a lot that you say Cason is truly original. I've tried to do the best I can to create a character that can function in this kind of situation and still be human, and it's difficult. So thanks for the encouragement.

**Starr-Cross'd-Lover-**I'm glad that you're liking Dean and Cason together. I'm trying to do things gradually and not throw them together in a "well, we're kinda the only ones left, let's have sex" kind of way. Hopefully, you like this chapter, too. =)

**bjq-**I think this chapter might actually raise a few more questions rather than answer them, but I promise to answer your questions soon. Thank you for the review!

**Nelle07-**I'm super excited that you love it. I was a little nervous about that chapter.

**UnbalancedWriter-**Thank you so much for your feedback. It's awesome to know that y'all actually read these comments, and also great that you like what you're reading. I'm trying to find a good balance or action and "aww" moments, and your comments are so helpful. Thank you so much!

* * *

It was all very well and good for Dean to carry her back to her cabin after he bandaged her feet the first time, but after that, Cason found travel around camp a bit problematic. Dean had things that he needed to do, and she had other things that she needed to do and couldn't afford to wait for him to come and carry her to where she needed to go. Not to mention, she wasn't really a big fan of being carried anywhere. It didn't really send a very good message to the other members of the camp to see the second-in-command being carried around with her feet bandaged.

After a week of waiting to be taken where she needed to go by someone strong enough to carry her, she got an idea. She was sitting on the steps of her cabin, looking over maps of the area surrounding camp when she realized that she needed to go find Dean. The dark windows in Dean's cabin told her that he wasn't there.

"Kendel," she called to her daughter, who was playing in the dirt off the cabin steps. The little girl smiled and came running to her mother, a smile on her face. "Kendel, I need you to run over to Mr. Dean's cabin—"

"Mommy, he told me to just call him Dean," the little girl insisted with an exasperated sigh.

Cason smiled and sighed. "Well, I want you to run to Dean's cabin and get me a pair of his boots. Can you do that?"

"I'm not o'posed to go in his cabin."

"Why aren't you supposed to go in his cabin? You've been in there before."

"Because I told her not to," a voice cut in. "You know that you aren't supposed to be on your feet yet."

Cason grinned and looked to her left to find Dean quickly approaching her cabin. Kendel immediately stood up and ran to him, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs and hanging on fiercely. Watching, it reminded Cason was reminded of her own childhood doing the same things. She had danced on her father's feet and held on to his legs while he walked across the room. At their old camp, Kendel had never done those things when anyone but her mother. It was nice to see her playing so exuberantly with someone else.

"There are things that I need to do, and I can't spend all my time waiting for someone to cart me around. Besides, how am I supposed to do all my duties as second in command if I spend my days sitting around on my a—butt?" she asked.

"We got along alright without you, and we'll manage again for the few days that it takes you to recuperate."

"Few days? I've been sitting around for a week!"

"If you hadn't let your feet get so bad in the first place, this wouldn't have happened. You made your bed, now you have to lie in it."

She sighed in frustration and realized that there must be some other way for her to get what she wanted. She would just have to figure it out when Dean wasn't around to get in the way. Until then, she would just have to continue making her list of things to improve once she was better. The list was ridiculously long, but thinking of improvement projects was a slight relief from the boredom of laundry duty, which is what she had been doing since the condition of her feet had been revealed to the camp's fearless leader.

Not wanting to sound like a petulant child, she let the subject drop. After all, he did have a point and she was still managing to be productive.

"I was looking over these maps, and I've marked the best possible places to find a backup generator. Our best bet for a small supply run appears to be this small town here," she said, pointing on the map to a town about twenty miles away. "From what I've gathered, there is also a jewelry store in town where you might be able to stock up on some silver. You could take a small crew to scout the area. If there's anything worth taking, you could go back and get it. It's close enough so that we can afford to do recon first."

He tried to sit down beside her on the steps, but Kendel was still clinging to his leg, making this impossible. With a smile, he tapped her lightly on the head and whispered, "I need you to let go of me now so I can sit down and talk to your mom, okay?"

Kendel's reluctance was obvious, but she let him go. As soon as he was sitting down, she climbed into his lap and settled her head against his shoulder. At first he had always picked her up and played with her to keep the child from jumping on her mom, but it had quickly turned into an everyday thing for them. She loved to pull and tug and climb him like her was her very own personal jungle gym.

But the thing was, he seemed to enjoy it, too. They could be sitting in his cabin discussing the dire need for fences to reinforce some of their borders, but as soon as Kendel entered the room, Dean's face would light up with a smile. She made him smile when no one else could—which was basically everyone. No one really made Dean smile these days. At least, not since he had gotten a recon report two days prior.

Dean had wanted to go do the recon mission himself, but since he had decided that not only was he the leader of the camp but also a doctor and ruled that Cason was to be off her feet "until further notice," he had to send someone else. She couldn't very well see to everything if she wasn't allowed to get up and walk. Which is not to say that she hadn't tried. Every time Dean turned his back and was gone for a minute, she was up and moving around, her bandaged feet jammed into her loose bedroom slippers. Needless to say, that hadn't lasted long—bedroom slippers and mud are not a good combination.

But when she had asked him what it was that needed reconnaissance, he hadn't answered her. He had simply told her that it was "a possibility" and not to worry herself. In the short time she had known Dean, she already knew that if it was even the slightest possibility, he would have told her—especially if it was something that he would have to see to himself. She wondered what it was that he was hiding from her.

No, not just from her. From everyone. Sometimes she had to remind herself that when he closed himself off, she wasn't the only one he was shutting out. He was shutting out everyone. He was an immensely private person, and the majority of the camp new very little about his private life prior to founding the camp. From snooping around, she had found out that the only person who had known him before the world had gone to hell in a hand basket was Cas, and the few times she had tried to talk to him, he had hardly been coherent.

But when she saw Dean holding her daughter and smiling, she could only be glad that he was smiling about something. As awful as the world was, he was still smiling at her daughter. Of course, who wouldn't smile at Kendel?

"There are several farms in the area. We can send a small squad—three at most—to do some scouting at the farms. The generator is our prime objective," Dean said, studying the map.

"While they're at the farm, they should see if they can find any seeds. It wouldn't hurt us to have our own garden here. We would be able to have a more stable food source, and we'd be less dependent on raiding—at least, during the summertime, anyway," Cason suggested.

"That would be good. Fresh vegetables." Dean wrinkled his nose in distaste, making Kendel laugh as if it was the funnies thing she had ever seen. "Do you like veggies, Kendel?"

"Nuh-uh!" she said, shaking her head emphatically.

"Me, either. But you need to eat your veggies so you can grow up big and strong," he told her, ruffling her hair. The little girl smiled at him.

"Like you?"

He nodded reluctantly. "More or less. I bet your mom at her veggies. You'll be big and strong like your mommy. Now, it is time for you to go see Mrs. Faye so that I can talk to your mom. Can you go inside?"

She nodded and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Before climbing down from his lap, she gave him a light kiss on the cheek and then skipped away to play with Faye, who was waiting inside. As soon as Kendel was gone, Dean turned to her.

"Trying to steal my boots, huh?"

"I can't just sit here like this. It's driving me nuts. I should be up doing more of the day to day stuff. Besides, it isn't exactly great for camp morale to see me being carried around everywhere."

"You have to stay off your feet and give them a chance to heal or you're just going to end up doing this again in a few weeks. Now, this recon team you want to send. Who do you think?"

"I was thinking Yaeger could lead, and then Frank and Risa. They'll take orders well, and Yaeger knows the area the best."

He nodded. "Good choices. I'll call a meeting and we'll send them at midnight."

"No," she said. "Send them tomorrow night. Yaeger is exhausted, and so is Frank. We don't want them getting sloppy. Give them a day to rest and recover."

"Good call. I'll talk to them tonight after dinner."

"Am I going to get to come to dinner or am I going to have to sit on my ass in the cabin while I wait on it to be delivered?"

"You can't possibly be tired of having it delivered by a dashingly handsome delivery boy," he teased. She froze in shock for a split second. Teasing? Joking? Flirting? With _her_? Who was this Dean Winchester, and where had he been for the past few days?

She had noticed shortly after her arrival at camp that there were two types of women: those that Dean slept with, and those that he deemed unfit for sleeping with. Generally, the ones deemed unfit for having sex with were older than thirty, less than a C cup, or hygienically challenged. While Cason was not hygienically challenged—foot problems aside—or over thirty, she was somewhat lacking in the chest region. She didn't consider herself ugly in any sense of the word, but she hadn't exactly pegged herself as the type he would flirt with, either.

Before she had a chance to answer, Faye and Kendel came out of the cabin, hand in hand, walking towards the mess hall. Cason was glad of the brief interruption if only because it gave her slightly more time to think of a response. As soon as they got inside to dinner, she answered.

"I mean, I guess I could get used to room service. It's just throwing off Kendel's routine. As you just saw, I'm sending her to dinner with Faye so that she gets back into the swing of things."

"That's fine. She never causes any trouble. You know that."

"Yeah, I do. She's a good kid. If the world were normal—like it should be—she would be sitting at home right now on a nice street in a nice house with a white picket fence and puppy to play with," she said wistfully.

"Or she wouldn't exist at all. You would never have been…in a position to have her if the world hadn't been shot to hell," he pointed out.

"Aren't you mister positive all of a sudden."

"Look, the kid gives you something to live for, to wake up every morning for. You've got a family. That's more than most of u—them have."

"So you did have a family. What—"

"We're all one big, happy family here. Didn't Cas give you the sermon?" he asked lightly, clearly joking.

"You're really not a tit for tat guy, are you? You know everything about me, and I hardly know anything about you."

He smirked at her, and she realized that her wording probably wasn't the best. She also realized that if she backed down, she was going to regret it. She had been right. He knew everything there was to know about her, and she knew nothing. So instead of backing down, she took the sexual innuendoes and rolled with them.

"I guess I shouldn't say you're not a tit guy. You're definitely a tit guy, which I guess is why I'm a little surprised that you were flirting with me. I mean, they're there, but they're not really that impressive," she said, cupping her breasts in her hands. "I mean, I like them. I had them for most of my life and clearly they've served me well, but I don't think that they're up to your…usual standards."

"My what? Usual standards?"

"You think I haven't noticed? Women in this camp are throwing themselves at you and if they're smaller than a C cup, you turn them away. Discrimination based on breast size. Tsk, tsk."

A look of surprise crossed his face as he heard her talking so frankly. She had been up front with him about almost everything, but her body was private. He had always had the idea—for whatever reason—that she viewed her body as an instrument needed to carry out a task, to get the job done. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of her as a woman—he most definitely had—it was just that he never really stopped to think that she thought of her body. Being confronted with this fact in such a blunt manner was a slight shock that left him speechless for the first time in a long time.

"It's okay. I mean, you like what you like. Just don't try to flirt with me to get what you want. Just ask for it. You're my boss. I'll tell you."

"So you'll stay off your feet and quit trying to get Kendel to steal my shoes for you?" he asked lightly.

"Fine. I guess. But as soon as a week is up, you can guarantee I'm going to be up and back at 'em. You're going to regret taking me on as a sparring partner," she mock-threatened.

"Yeah? We'll see. Now, let's get you back inside so that I can go get dinner." Without another word of warning, he picked her up and carried her back into the cabin and set her on her bed. The cabin was still neat as a pin—the beds were made, the shoes were where they were supposed to be—despite how tiny it was. Even the light-colored bedspread was still clean.

Which might have been why she looked so out of place. She was wearing a worn pair of jeans that she had brought with her from their old camp, a dark green heavy turtleneck sweater and several pairs of thick, wool socks. Her hair was disheveled and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired and worn out and so out of place in a cabin where everything was neat and clean.

"You been sleeping okay?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'll answer that when you tell me what the recon mission was all about."

Any trace of a smile vanished from his face and he was suddenly serious. "Not that. Find something else you want to know and I'll tell you."

She wondered what it could possibly be that he didn't want to talk about. What had gone so wrong that he would retreat so far in on himself? Why didn't he trust her with the information?

"Your family. Mom, dad, sisters, brothers? Tell me about them."

He was silent for a long minute, staring out the window. She saw his jaw clench tightly to keep from trembling. Clearly it was a sore subject for him, and she was beginning to regret bringing it up. After all, pasts weren't really too terribly relevant right now.

"Mom was Mary Winchester. She was killed when I was four. My dad was John. Ex-marine. He started hunting the baddies trying to find the _thing_ that killed my mom. He died a while back…" He stopped for a long moment and took a deep breath before continuing, as if forcing the words from his mouth, despite the fact that he clearly didn't want to. "One brother, Sam. He didn't make it through the world getting shot to hell."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pried—"

"Well, now you know. When there's something that you truly need to know, I'll let you know. Now, answer my question. How have you been sleeping?"

She sighed. "I've been sleeping alright. Kendel just likes to take her half out the middle, which is a little uncomfortable some times. But it's fine."

"And how are your feet?"

"They're healing. Not fast enough, but they're healing. I'll take mercy on you and not ask anymore questions."

Suddenly, Kendel burst through the door—followed closely by Faye—with two plates of tin-foil wrapped food in her hand. She slowed quickly and set the plates on the edge of the bed. "We bringed you dinner, Mommy. He wasn't there to get it, so I bringed you some."

Cason smiled and blew her daughter a kiss. "Thank you. Now I need you to get in the bathtub, okay?"

Faye took Kendel into the bathroom and started getting the child in the tub. Normally, this was something that Cason would do, but she couldn't get her bandages wet sitting on the wet bathroom floor while she bathed her daughter. She was mostly ready to get her bandages off so that she had more time to spend with Kendel than for any other reason.

"I'm sure Risa was thrilled that you missed dinner," Cason commented sarcastically.

"Risa can go to hell." As soon as he had finished speaking, Dean was shoveling his mouth full of food. Cason followed suit. When they were finished, there was nothing left on the plates.

"Wow, someone was hungry," Cason said wryly.

"You put some food away, too. That's good. You're too skinny, anyway."

Cason was about to protest when Faye came in carrying a towel-wrapped Kendel and cut her off. She continued to dress the little girl as she spoke. "I keep telling her that Dean, but she never listens. Maybe she'll listen to you."

"I don't think anyone can make her listen if she doesn't want to listen. She's pretty stubborn."

"Hey! That's the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Stubborn."

He just grinned and stood up, getting ready to leave. "I've got to go brief the group going on the recon mission tomorrow. Have a good nigh—"

"No!" In a blur of purple fleece pajamas, Kendel threw herself against his legs and clung tightly.

"Kendel, let go. Dean has to go now. You can see him tomorrow," Cason said, her voice quiet but firm.

"You'll see me tomorrow. It's okay," Dean told the child, going with the flow.

Kendel nodded hesitantly. "Will you tuck me in?"

Over her head, Dean eyed Cason, asking for permission. Cason nodded silently. Then, like he had done it a thousand times before, Dean scooped up the little girl and carried her to bed. It didn't seem to matter that he wasn't the one who tucked Kendel in every night. He knew all the steps to telling a child goodnight. He pulled the covers down and put Kendel underneath them, pulling the blankets up to her chin before giving her a hug goodnight. Kendel wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Goodnight Kendel," he whispered.

"'Night Daddy," she answered, before rolling over and going to sleep.

Upon hearing Kendel say those words, Dean froze and looked to Cason-fully prepared to apologize for stepping on her toes. He didn't want to take her place as a mother, and he wasn't sure where this had come from, but Cason seemed okay with it. In fact, hearing her daughter say those words brough tears to her eyes. She should have known that sooner or later, Kendel was going to want to know about her dad. But instead of asking her mom, she had found one on her own. She had chosen a good man-one that was clearly a little bit damaged, but weren't they all-to be her father.

Cason rose to walk Dean out. Instead of carrying her, she leaned on Dean as she hobbled to the door. They stepped out on the porch, into the cold and immediately he apologized. "I'm sorry. I dont' know where that came from, but I just want you to know that I'm not trying to step on your toes-"

"I know. I should have known that she would do this. I'm sorry, I don't want you to feel obligated-"

"Obligated? No! She's a great kid. Great to be around. I would-I would be proud to be her dad."

Cason studied him for a long moment and knew that he was serious. Kendel wasn't biologically his daughter, but he had come to know her in the time they had been there. He had grown to love that little ball of energy just as much as she did. He was helping her raise Kendel just as much as Faye, and even more than some of the others from their old camp. He was there, he was a presence in her daughter's life, and he was good to them. This realization made her smile. She kissed Dean gently on the cheek.

"I don't think she could have chosen a better man."


	8. All the Luck I Need

**Author's Note: **So, I'm sorry for the delay in the updating, but I did make this chapter longer, so maybe that kinda makes up for it. But I also want to say thank you to everyone, because I got 11 reviews for the last chapter, which is more than I have ever gotten for any Supernatural story that I have written. Thank you guys so so much! Y'all are awesome, and please _please_ keep it up! I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review! =)

**DanniMitchell85-**I love that you like this story and slow-building relationship with Cason and Dean. It was important for me that the relationship be founded on something other than panic and sex, and it's nice that you recognize that and appreciate it. Thanks for the review!

**kazza03**-I'm sorry for the delayed update! I hope you like this chapter and thank you so much for the feedback!

**kate-melissa-**When I was writing that part, I thought it was a bit unexpected, but I work with children and once had a four year old try something similar. Kids are unexpected and rally do say the darndest things. I'm super glad that you like the story, and thanks for the support!

**supernaturalobssessed-**Sorry I took so long on this update, but I'm back and I hope you like it!

**GoLdFiSh_Oo-**It makes me really excited to have you say that. I know that when I'm reading a good fic, I get like that too and it's awesome that you're enjoying this story so much. I hope that you find this chapter satisfying. Thanks for the review!

**Nelle07-**Here is another chapter for you to love! At least, I hope you love it.

**Knightlight86**-Thanks for the support and the feedback. It really is nice to know that y'all are liking the story. I really do appreciate y'all's support. Thanks so much!

**me09-**Here is another chapter of some slow-building Dean/Cason and some cute Dean and Kendel moments. I hope you like!

**-Winchester-**Sorry to leave you hanging like that, but here is the next chapter. I think you'll like it. I also sincerely hope that it doesn't leave you dying. =)

**tvmaniac2008-**I'm glad that you like Kendel and Cason. I always worry with OCs that they aren't full enough as characters. But to know that you like them and that you are responding to them tells me that I'm doing a pretty decent job. Thanks! =)

* * *

Yaeger, Frank, and Risa left the camp at midnight to go on their recon mission. Dean and Cason were both there—Dean to give them their more specific orders, and Cason to give them a map and observe the process—for the send off. Dean wanted her to watch and learn his way of doing things, not because he thought that there was anything wrong with the way she did things, but because he wanted to present them as a united pair of political—as political as their camp would ever be—allies. He wanted it to be perfectly clear that Cason was his second in command, and that her tactical planning and strategic work was just as good, if not better, than his was. He didn't want anyone second-guessing her, and this was his way of showing his confidence in her.

So they sent their troops off to do their recon mission—find a generator and potential supplies and report back with the location and general state of things—in the pitch-black of night. It was midnight—12:00 on the dot—when the hummer pulled out, packed with just enough supplies for the short run. They really didn't need supplies at all. If they weren't back by first light at 7:08 in the morning, it meant that something had gone wrong.

The good-byes were short and sweet. Frank shook Dean's hand and gave Cason a tight hug. Yaeger shook everyone's hands and gave his wife—a short, dark-haired woman—a lingering kiss before slipping a folded piece of paper into her pocket. Risa didn't bother to say good-bye to Cason—something that suited her just fine—and gave Dean a lingering and rather warm hug. Afterwards, all three team members climbed into the Jeep and drove off, leaving the farewell crew standing and watching their recon team drive off into the darkness. Yaeger's wife returned to her cabin quickly, leaving Dean and Cason standing alone in the dark.

"What was the paper that Yaeger gave his wife?" Cason asked quietly.

"It's a letter. Every time he goes on a mission he writes her another letter, just in case something happens to him. She never reads them, just puts them in a basket under her bed," Dean answered quietly.

"Do you think she would ever read them?"

"If anything ever happened to Yaeger? Have you seen how ridiculously in love they are? Of course she would. She would cling to anything of his that she could. She's here every time he goes out."

Cason nodded in understanding. She thought of all the times that she had interrupted Kendel's schedule so that her daughter could say good-bye to her. It was more times than she wanted to think about.

"I can understand that. Kendel comes to see me off every time I leave to go on a mission."

"Every time? What about that schedule you're so anal about?" Dean asked, only half teasing.

"Send-offs trump schedules every time."

"How come?"

"You know as well as I do that every time we go out, there is a chance that we won't come back. Every goodbye has the potential to be the last one. I don't want to go off and die somewhere without having said goodbye to my little girl."

Dean was silent for a moment, thinking. He knew she was right. Yaeger's wife never missed a send off. Cas always used them as an excuse to have another this-could-be-your-last-chance-to-experience-total-shared-perception orgy party, telling the others that they need to seize the moment and all that. And there was always the pre-send off sex that everyone was having.

But send offs were different for Dean. There was no one to write that touching farewell letter to, or someone to say a tearful goodbye to. For one, that was _so _gay, and two—he had lost anyone who had deserved the privilege. Bobby was dead; Cas wasn't the same Cas that he had been before; Sam was gone. No one worth saying goodbye to.

"I see," he said shortly.

"Do you?" Cason asked, studying him. She saw the tightness at the corners of his eyes and knew that he did. "You do understand goodbyes, don't you? You understand the permanent nature of goodbyes. Was it the one you didn't say or the one that you did?"

His jaw clenched and she knew that he didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to tell her, and hell, she knew that some things are better left unsaid. But no matter how much he didn't _want_ to tell her, he was going to. He had to tell someone; someone who understood the value of secrets and privacy; someone who wasn't going to brag that Dean Winchester—_the _Dean Winchester—had told her his secrets.

"Both," he finally whispered. He was silently thankful that it was dark out so that Cason couldn't see his trembling lips and tears in his eyes. Or, at least the darkness gave Cason an excuse not to acknowledge the tears when she would have to do so otherwise. "Just too many goodbyes in general."

She nodded, but didn't say anything. There was too much that could be said, none of it helpful. Instead, she let him tell her his story. She didn't push for details or encourage him to tell her anything more than he wanted to. She just listened.

"M-my brother and I were…After my dad died, we had each other, and that was it. We were all each other had for years and years, and, uh…then he was gone."

Again, she didn't say anything, because she couldn't relate. It was one thing to lose someone without saying goodbye, but it was another thing altogether to have parted on less than brotherly terms. The bitter tone in his voice was enough to tell her that the brothers hadn't been on the best of terms when the parted ways. She tried to wipe away her own tears for him without him noticing. Just as she ignored his tears, he paid her the same respect.

"And the goodbyes that you did get to say?"

"Bobby…was a good friend of my dad's. He, uh, got—when the shit hit the fan, he got infected. I-it was a few years back. We—uh, all knew it , and he wanted to…take care of it then and there. But I had to—I had to…"

"You had to make sure," Cason finished for him. He nodded.

"He said goodbye, and a few hours later, he wasn't Bobby anymore." He didn't have to tell her what happened after that, because she already knew. He had to protect his camp and the rest of the group. She would have done the same thing in his situation, and from what he had told her about Bobby, she was certain that he understood, too. It didn't matter, though. It didn't make it any easier.

"I'm sorry. I-I know that hearing that doesn't really help. Words are useless, but…I'm sorry for your loss."

He nodded again and took a moment to force himself to speak again. "It happens. We've all lost someone. That's why goodbyes are so hard around here."

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to tell you right now that if you have to go on a mission, Kendel is going to be here, and you are going to say goodbye to her. You're not going to leave her without a word," she said fiercely, trying to take their quiet, emotional moment and tuck it away.

Emotional moments were few and far between, and getting harder to deal with the more days passed. It was getting too easy to overreact and let things that they had no control over affect them too strongly. It wasn't a problem that Dean and Cason generally had, but it was something that they saw in the rest of the camp. The rarity of these moments, and perhaps the difficulty of them too, made it all the more meaningful when he shared it with her.

Dean smiled, thinking of the bubbly little chubby-cheeked girl sleeping in Cason's cabin. He needed to think about something brighter, happier. He needed to lighten the mood, to stop thinking about Sam an dBobby and the way the world used to be. "Kendel wouldn't let me leave without saying a few words. She'd chase down the cars."

"You bet your ass she would." Cason recognized what he was doing, and let him. She sounded proud of her daughter, and she was. She had done the best she could to raise her daughter, and so far, Kendel hadn't turned out bad. In fact, she was a damn good kid.

Dean looked over to where Cason was sitting next to him. He couldn't actually see any details, but he knew that she was grinning—something that looked maniacal with her bruised, split lip. Her hands would be moving, picking at the scars on her finger pads. Until this moment, he hadn't thought too terribly much about how Kendel's adoption of him was going to affect his relationship with Cason. He had always assumed that she would always be there—she was his second in command, and she was starting to fit in well at camp—but that had now been cemented. He was tied not only to Kendel, but to her mother also.

He could live with that. There were worse people to be tied to, after all, and the kid was definitely worth it.

"I've got to get back to bed. We start our sparring sessions tomorrow." He could practically hear the grin in her voice.

They started walking slowly back towards their cabins, each too deep in thought to say anything. Cason's cabin was dark—Faye and Kendel were in bed—but there was a single light on in Dean's. Cason would have bet her life savings—if she had still had any, that is—that if she walked into that cabin she would find maps and supply lists and plans strewn all over the table where that single lamp was lit. There was probably a bottle of booze stashed in there somewhere. She wondered just how much sleep he got at night.

As she climbed the steps to her cabin, Dean stopped and waited, making sure that she got inside alright. She heard the silence as he stopped walking and waited for her. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that she was right. He was standing silently, staring at her. He looked so alone in the dark, like it might swallow him up. It didn't seem right to leave him there without a kind word.

"Good night, Dean. Try to actually get some sleep."

"Yeah, you too." Then he continued walking to his cabin. Cason quickly put on her pajamas and climbed into bed. She was freezing, and pulled the blanket up to her chin, making sure it was snug around her daughter—who had snuggled in close to her mother—and tried to go to sleep. After a few long moments of pondering Dean Winchester, she drifted off to sleep.

In the cabin next door, Dean Winchester was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling off his boots. He tried not to think of everything that he just told Cason—all the memories that he had tried so hard to bury—but to no avail. So instead of going to sleep so that he could be haunted by dreams, he pulled a bottle of booze out from under the bed and started to drink. After a bit, the alcohol reduced everything into a blurry haze, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sleep didn't last long. Six and a half hours later, he was awake pulling on those same boots that he had taken off hours before. On more than one occasion, he had awakened to find that he had fallen asleep with his shoes on. He remembered the early days of camp when Bobby had tried to do what he could—which was limited by the wheelchair—and Cas had just started experimenting with drugs and was too stoned to be helpful. He had worn himself ragged, and after weeks of working, his feet had looked just like Cason's. They had just barely managed to save his baby toe. He knew that Cason had been in a similar position when he had stumbled across her camp.

But she wasn't letting her feet slow her down. She had taken it easy—as easy as someone like her can take things, anyway—and was ready to be back up and at it. He peeked out the window over at Cason's cabin and saw a faint light on. He knew that she was trying to get dressed so that she would be ready to meet with the recon team when they got back, but she was also trying to do it without waking Faye or Kendel. A few minutes later, she was sitting on the steps, waiting for him.

Upon seeing him, she rose and they walked to the main cabin to wait for the recon team to arrive. They didn't have to wait long. A few minutes before sunrise, the Jeep pulled up. None of the team looked any worse off than they had before, aside from some lost sleep. The vehicle didn't look any worse for wear, either, aside from a little bit of mud. As soon as the Jeep stopped, they poured out; Yaeger and Frank looked like children on Christmas morning. Risa just looked cranky.

"The farm was completely abandoned. We found two working generators and a pretty decent supply of animal feed—" Yaeger started excitedly.

"Before you get any farther, let's get inside so you can sit down and we can plot things out on paper," Cason said. They were about to tell everything they had found and she didn't even have paper to take notes. They nodded and the crew made their way into Dean's cabin. Cason quickly pulled some paper to take notes as they all sat around the map that was open on the table.

"We found two generators, but those things are heavy. It's going to take at least four big guys to load those things onto the Jeep, maybe five," Yaeger said.

"We'll need at least two of the Jeeps to carry everything back. There were a lot of non-perishables in the pantry. It didn't look like the farm had been abandoned for very long," Frank explained.

"Any sign of recent activity? Possible squatters?" Dean asked. The last thing they wanted was to return on a supply run and find that a small army of squatters had taken over. Sometimes normal human beings could be worse than croats, trying to survive. He had seen people kill over a box of Cheerios, and he wasn't going to put his people in danger that way.

"None that I could see. There weren't any fresh tire tracks; food on the counter was molded and completely rotten. I found some toilet paper and shampoo and soap in the bathroom, but it hadn't been used in a while. There was a pretty decent layer of dust on everything, and it hadn't been disturbed," Risa commented, making sure she got her two cents in.

"We should go soon," Dean said, taking charge. "We need to make sure we get a hold of everything before someone else does. You go get some sleep. We'll plan the rest."

Frank and Yaeger nodded silently and left, eager to get some sleep. Risa lingered, clearly trying to get an offer to stay. Finally, Dean lost his patience.

"Risa, that means you, too. Go."

She was gone in a huff, leaving Dean and Cason alone with the maps and Cason's quickly-written notes. They studied the map and looked over their supply lists for several minutes, trying to think of who to send, what to grab, and when they were going to get it all done.

"We need to go before someone else finds this place. I mean, like, tonight kind of soon."

"Yaeger said you're going to need four or five big guys to move those generators. He and Frank went on the recon mission; they'll know where everything is. We should probably send them back. If we let them sleep all day, they'll be good to go by tonight," Cason thought aloud.

Dean nodded. "We'll take two of the Jeeps. Yaeger, Frank, and I will go. We'll probably need to take—"

"James and Smith would be good. And you'll have to take Risa."

He sighed in frustration, but knew she was right. She had done the recon, she knew where supplies were, and she would be useful. Her attitude sucked and he was tired of her trying to stake claim as Queen Bitch, but she would be useful.

"Okay, those are the teams. I'll make the announcement at breakfast, we'll meet with them. Instead of leaving at midnight, we'll leave as soon as it gets dark. That should hopefully give us enough time to go, get everything loaded, and get back before daylight. I don't want us out in the open during the day in slower-moving vehicles."

She nodded. "I know. I'm guessing this means that we won't be sparring today? You'll need to rest."

He grinned lopsidedly. "We'll start sparring when I get back. Since I'll be gone, you know that means that you're going to be in charge."

"Yeah, I know. Since you'll be gone at night, though, so the majority of the camp should be asleep. This is a relatively short supply run."

"It should be. But in the event that something goes wrong—"

"I know, I'm in charge. I got it. Let's not mention the possibility of bad things happening. I'd rather we not even consider it right now. I'll jump off that bridge if I get there."

She didn't really want to think that something would go wrong. She didn't like to even entertain the possibility; it was too much like tempting fate, like asking for something to go wrong. There was no doubt in her mind that she was capable of running the camp—she had been helping Dean do it since she had arrived—but she also didn't like the idea that she would have to. Because if she had to run the camp, it meant that something was wrong with Dean, and that was a thought that didn't sit well with her, especially considering how close he was to Kendel.

"So, you'll make the announcement at breakfast?" she asked. He nodded. "Everyone will be up soon. We should head that way."

On the way to the dining hall, Kendel launched herself down the steps and threw herself into her mother's arms, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was wearing her pink rain boots with jeans and a thick pink sweater. She looked almost like a normal child getting ready to go to school. Moments of normalcy for Kendel were becoming more and more frequent, something that could only have come from being in a bigger camp. Cason had been leaving to go on supply runs sporadically at their other camp, but now she was free to stay with her daughter. The small things made her grateful for the opportunity.

Of course, as soon as Kendel was done climbing on her mother and saying good morning to her, she moved on to Dean—the father that she had adopted—and he didn't mind. He walked with her clinging to his leg and holding his hand, despite the fact that it was putting him off balance. Having decided that riding Dean's leg was uncomfortable, Kendel let go and held his hand as they walked to the dining hall.

Silence fell over the group as Dean stepped before the group, sans Kendel—who was sitting with Cason and Faye at the first table. As he made his announcement, Cason watched the reactions that different people were having. Several were excited and clearly wanted to go on the mission; others were afraid and grabbed their loved ones hands; there were others who did not react at all, but instead continued to eat their breakfast. Frank nodded and looked both excited and resigned. Yaeger appeared reluctant but somehow still eager. Yaeger's wife looked like she was about to faint.

"By now, you all know Cason. While I am not here, she is in charge. If there is an emergency, you know where to find her. If I find that anyone has given her trouble, the punishment will be swift and harsh. But I know that we're not going to have any problems, right?"

There was silence as everyone contemplated what he said, and then the group disbanded and everyone went about their business like it was a normal day. Of course, supply runs had to be done with some regularity and it was something that people were used to, but there was a certain finality in things. Yaeger and his wife disappeared into their cabin and weren't seen all day. Frank organized his belongings before settling into his bed to rest.

Dean Winchester sat in a chair, staring out the window at some of the sparring sessions that were going on. He watched his camp move smoothly without him. Without having to be told, people went to Cason with their troubles, and she handled them with skill. He watched as she took Kendel on a walk around the camp. He knew that she was checking their defenses, making sure that no one was going to slip in while he was away. He smiled when he heard the pitter patter of tiny feet coming up the stairs and into his cabin.

"Kendel! Dean is trying to sleep, and you need to leave him alone!" Cason called, following her daughter into Dean's cabin.

"But he isn't even in bed, Mommy! Are you?" Kendel chirped, sitting on his lap.

"That doesn't matter, Kendel. I told you not to bother him, and you didn't listen. You know better than that," Cason said, her voice stern. Kendel frowned, knowing immediately that she was in trouble.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, sliding off Dean's lap and walking towards her mom.

"I know you are, and I know that you don't mean to hurt anyone. But you have to understand that when I ask you to do something, it's usually to keep you safe. Okay?" Cason explained gently. Kendel nodded dejectedly. "Now, you may go see Dean."

Kendel walked to where he was sitting. "Mommy said that you have to take a nap because you're going away tonight."

Dean nodded. "I have to go on a supply run tonight, so I have to get some sleep. But I'll be back tomorrow."

"Mommy said I have to take a nap, too. Can I nap with you?" she asked, her eyes shining with excitement. Dean smiled and glanced at Cason, who nodded in permission.

"You can if you want to, but first I have to talk to your mom," he said with a smile. Kendel's face lit up as she ran to his bed and climbed underneath the covers. He stepped outside with Cason. "Are you sure this is alright?"

"Yeah, its fine. It'll give me a chance to get some stuff done. If she wakes you up, I'll be around. I can come get her—"

"Don't worry about it. She can stay with me until it's time for our big send off. I know you want her to be there."

Cason nodded. "I'll see you then. Thanks…for looking out for her."

"Well, she adopted me. And that's what dads do." Then he returned inside and climbed in the bed. As soon as he slipped beneath the covers, Kendel snuggled up against him and tightened her fist in his shirt-front, instantly asleep. Watching her innocence, he fell asleep shortly thereafter.

He didn't wake up until several hours later when he felt Kendel slip out of the bed and hurry to the bathroom. He glanced at the sky and saw the sun sinking and knew that it was time to get up and go. He needed to get dinner before he left, and Kendel did too.

"We slept a long time, didn't we?" Kendel asked, bouncing back on to the bed.

"We did. Now we have to go eat dinner and find your mom. She wants you to come see us off."

"Okay." With that, Kendel climbed out of the bed and pulled her boots back on. Her coat was on the table by his; she put hers on and handed Dean his jacket. He couldn't help but smile at her. She was so tiny and so _happy_ and it was amazing.

They ate dinner pretty quickly. No one bothered to ask why Dean had a little girl following him around—they all knew that Kendel had attached herself to him, and most of them found it adorable. Their fearless leader needed something to humanize him every now and again. He was so serious, except when he was with Kendel when he was with that little girl, he was almost always smiling.

But he wasn't smiling when he had to say goodbye to her. They loaded up the Jeeps and were ready to pull out as soon as everyone said their goodbyes. Dean was holding Kendel, trying to hand her back to Cason, but she was clinging to his neck, refusing to let go, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I don't want you to go!" she cried.

"Kendel, it's okay. You need to go with your mom. She's going to stay here with you, okay?" Dean said, trying to calm her.

"I want you to stay here with me. You need to stay here with me and Mommy. Please!"

"Kendel, Dean has to go. Now say goodbye and let go. The fast you let him go, the fast he can come back," Cason whispered.

"Really?" Cason and Dean both nodded. Slowly, the child let go of Dean's neck. "Please hurry. And don't get hurt, o'tay?"

Dean nodded. "I'll try, okay?"

"Can we take a nap tomorrow, too?"

"I don't see why not. Now, I have to go, okay? But I'll try to come back as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. Then, with no warning, she kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his neck. "I love you."

Dean smiled. "I love you too, Kendel. Was that a good luck kiss?" The child nodded. "Then I should be just fine. You just gave me all the luck I need."

Kendel climbed down and went to her mother, who picked her up. "Mommy, you have to give him a kiss, too. For lotsa extra luck."

Cason stared at her daughter, and then at Dean, who was grinning playfully, waiting to see how she would react. "Kendel—"

"You _have _to, Mommy!"

"C'mon, Mommy. For good luck," Dean chimed in. Cason sighed in exasperation before kissing Dean quickly on the cheek.

"There. A kiss for luck. You should have plenty by now, so hurry back," Cason said, though they could all tell that it wasn't anger in her voice. They could see the faint smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"I will. I've got all the luck I need."


	9. Mommy and Daddy and Kendel

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who read/alerted/favorited this story. The feedback that I'm getting keeps growing and growing, and that's awesome. This is by far my best-recieved story in the Supernatural fandom. Also, I'm sorry for the delay. I started writing some original fiction and my characters took over my mind for a little bit. But I'm back, and here's the next chapter.

**tvmaniac2008-**I'm glad that you like Kendel. I definitely enjoy writing her and I hope that you're enjoying the growing family relationship as well as the slow going Dean/Cason.

**GoLdFiSh_Oo-**Here's another chapter for you. Sorry it wasn't sooner! Enjoy!

**wizziewoo123-**Thanks for the review, and I hope that you like this chapter! =)

**Kazza03-**I hope you find this chapter as good as the last one. Thanks for the support!

**kate-melissa-**I am so glad that you liked the end scene. I tried to find the right tone between playful and serious, so I'm glad that it turned out okay and that you liked it.

**lyssalightwing-**To have you say that Cason is a gem of a character is a great compliment, and thank you very much. I've tried to make her as human and actually realistic as possible, and I'm really glad that you like her. Thanks for the support and I hope you continue to love the story.

**-**Trying to keep Dean in character to a degree is probably the hardest part of this whole thing, especially when it comes to Kendel. I think Dean has a soft spot for kids, its just a matter of balancing it with the rest of his personality. Thanks for the review!

**DanniMitchell85-**I definitely plan on Kendel playing a role in Dean and Cason's relationship, just becaues I feel like children of single parents play a huge role in their parents relationships, and in this case, Dean really loves this kid. And how can Cason not like someone who clearly loves her daughter that much? Thanks for the review, and here is another chapter for you!

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Cason didn't sleep that night, and Kendel didn't either. Cason tried to stay calm to keep her daughter from realizing just how anxious she was. There was too much that could go wrong on a mission like this one. Generators were heavy things and if they dropped one, it was not going to be a pretty picture. The last things that she wanted was to spend her day doing patching up someone's broken foot or leg or whatever.

"Mommy, when is he gonna be back?" Kendel asked, tugging on Cason's sleeve.

"Dean will be back tomorrow," Cason answered, rubbing soothing circles across her daughter's back, trying to get her to go back to sleep. Her eyes were drooping, and for a second Cason thought that maybe she was going to succeed. But after a few seconds, her daughter's eyes popped open and she asked another question.

"What if he's not?"

"I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow, sweetie. If he isn't, we'll go look for him. But, if you go to sleep, time will go by faster," she whispered in Kendel's ear. Her daughter sighed happily and buried her face in her mother's shoulder. Moments later, she was asleep. Even with Kendel asleep, Cason couldn't drift off. Instead, she was running through all the possibilities of what could go wrong in her head. She was still thinking about it when the sun rose over the horizon and she heard the commotion outside.

A few moments after the commotion, she Yaeger was pounding at her door. Cason didn't even try to be quiet as she got out of the bed. If Yaeger was coming to her that meant one thing: they were back, and for whatever reason, they couldn't go to Dean. The only reason that they wouldn't go to Dean is if he were unconscious or seriously injured. She pulled on her coat over her pajamas and followed Yaeger out the door.

There was a group of them standing around one of the Jeeps, the doors open, pulling someone from the front seat of the car, wrapped up in jackets and blankets. Before she even saw his face, she knew that it was Dean. She started running towards the Jeep, helping to pull him from the car. He was sopping wet and shivering so hard, the men were having trouble keeping a grip on him to keep him upright. His lips were starting to turn eyes were drooping, trying to close.

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"We heard people coming, and we weren't sure if they were croats or squatters, so we had to get the hell out of there. When were loading the second one up, he lost his balance and wound up in the creek," Yaeger said, holding Dean upright.

"My cabin is the closest with a tub, right?" Yaeger nodded. "Alright, run me some hot water in that tub. Get Kendel and Faye out of the cabin. It's going to scare Kendel, so tell her that he needs something hot to drink, and that I need her to make it for him. After they're out, I want you to strip him down. You've got to get him out of those wet clothes," she ordered. Frank ran ahead and vacated Cason's cabin; she could see the terrified look that took over Kendel's face as she saw Dean being carried inside. "Why did you leave him in his wet clothes?" she demanded.

"Because we thought it might make it worse. And he didn't want to ride back naked," Yaeger answered. Dean grunted, but neither of them could understand him. His shivering was becoming more and more like convulsions. As soon as they set foot in the cabin, she had them put him on the bathroom floor, and they began pulling off his wet clothes.

"Come on, Dean. I need you to stay awake for me," she said, trying to give him something to pay attention to while she worked on the buttons of his coat. "If you go to sleep now, you're not going to be able to sleep later, and you promised Kendel that you would nap with her today." She glanced pointedly at Yaeger, who joined in to help.

"Yeah, fearless leader. You've got a beautiful woman stripping your clothes off, so shouldn't you be smiling?" They got a small half-grin out of him with that one. The grin was gone the minute the Cason pulled his jeans and his boxers down in one swift motion, and almost tried to roll out of Cason's view, but was too weak to do so.

"You've seen me naked, Dean," she reminded him, not caring that if anyone overheard her, it would be known by everyone in the camp in under five minutes. "You've seen me naked, so it's only fair. Besides, you don't really strike me as the shy type."

Despite seeming like the not-shy type, he definitely didn't seem to like Cason helping him into the bathtub. She and Yaeger lowered him into the tub and propped his arms and legs on the side, trying to get his core re-warmed. He kept trying to turn on his side, away from Cason, so finally, she sat on the toilet, her back to him.

"There. Now I can't see anything. Are you happy?" If he answered, it must have been with a nod, because she sure as hell didn't hear it. She did hear the pitter-patter of Kendel's little feet outside the bathroom, followed by a loud knock on the door.

"Mommy? Daddy? We have hot choc'ate!" Cason pulled open the bathroom door and took the hot chocolate from her daughter. "Can I see Daddy, now?"

"Not yet, sweetie. He's taking a bath, and bath time is private time, right?"

Kendel nodded, and then—after a moment—looked confused. "Then how come you and Mr. Yaeger are in there?"

Cason heard chuckles from inside the bathroom. She hoped that Dean was getting a kick out of it, and wondered if he was getting a fuller picture of just what exactly it meant to be a parent.

"Dean is really tired and a little bit sick, so we're making sure he doesn't fall asleep in the bathtub. Do you want to do Mommy a big favor?" Cason asked. Kendel nodded and smiled. "I want you to take Mrs. Faye to Dean's cabin and get him some dry clothes, okay? And some pajamas, too. Can you do that?"

"Uh-huh! Then can I see Daddy?"

"You can see him after he gets out the bathtub, okay?" Kendel nodded, took Faye by the hand, and they were off to Dean's cabin to get him some dry clothes. When Cason returned to the bathroom, Yaeger was forcing the hot chocolate down Dean's throat, trying to help raise his body temperature. Dean was starting to get some of his color back, though he still looked completely exhausted and nearly ready to fall asleep.

"K-Kendel?" Dean managed to choke out several minutes later.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let her walk in on you naked in the bathtub, though she probably would if I let her. She went to get you some dry clothes for when we finally get you out of this bathtub. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he whispered.

"I know you're tired, but you can't go to sleep until we get your body temperature back up. I'm going to try to get you some warm towels when you get out, and then you're going straight into that bed out there."

He shook his head. "I want…my own bed."

"Sorry, but I'm not carrying you all way the next door. Besides, you're going to have to have someone monitoring your sleep for the next day or so, anyway, so you might as well stay here. That's an order, by the way, not a request."

He grinned weakly. "You like being the boss way too much."

"That's why you put me in charge. Now, listen to me, so that you can get up and running faster. I'm going to drain some of the water, put some more hot water in, and then go get some warm towels. When I get back, we'll see how you're doing and whether or not you get to get out of the tub."

He only nodded and started listening to Yaeger, who was telling him a funny story about his wife. Cason made it to the laundry area in record time. She pulled several towels off the stack and tried to think of some way to heat them since they did not have a dryer. After several minutes, it dawned on her. She ran to the dining hall where they were still cleaning up after breakfast. The ovens still hadn't cooled down. Cason set the towels in a pan and set it in front of the open oven, waiting for them to warm. No one in the kitchen dared to question her, despite how silly she looked putting towels in front of an oven. Several minutes later, she took the whole pan and headed back to her cabin.

Inside, she found Kendel standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking away from Dean, and singing him a silly song about the little green frog that got squished by the big black truck. In the tub, Dean was smiling while he listened to the little girl sing for him. Several silly songs later, Cason decided that Dean was ready to get out of the tub.

Yaeger helped him to stand, while Cason wrapped the warm towels around him. Yaeger sat him down on the toilet so that he could dry himself and try to dress himself. Eventually, the two emerged from the bathroom with Dean now clad in flannel pants and a thick, heavy wool sweater. Despite his protests, Dean was not taken to his cabin to sleep. Instead, they put him in Cason and Kendel's bed. As soon as he was settled under the covers, Kendel hopped up on the bed and took his much larger hands in her two tiny ones.

"I'm going to go get you all some breakfast," Faye said, excusing herself.

"You're tied up here, so I was thinking that I should get our sparring sessions on track for today?" Yaeger asked. Cason just shook her head no, and Yaeger excused himself to make that announcement to the rest of camp.

"Daddy, Mommy said you were sick. Are you sick?" Kendel asked.

Dean nodded. "I fell in some water and it made me too cold…but now I'm going to be all better. Your did a good job taking care of me."

"And Mommy helped."

"Yes, your mom helped, too."

"Can I snuggie with you?" Kendel's voice was so sweet and innocent and full of concern for him that he couldn't say no. It didn't matter that he ached all over and was still trying to fight off the exhaustion that comes from having a dangerously low body temperature. She wanted to snuggle, and he wasn't going to tell her that she couldn't. Besides, body heat and all that, right?

"Yes you can." And in a flash, Kendel was under the covers and snuggled right up next to him, her little hands still clinging to one of his bigger ones. Cason sat on the edge of the bed, watching the whole scene with a smile on her face. Every now and again, she would catch Dean looking at her and a blush would creep into her cheeks. This was how Faye found them when she returned with a hot breakfast and more hot chocolate for Dean.

They ate breakfast crowded around the bed—Dean and Kendel ate in bed, Cason sitting on the edge, and Faye in a chair beside the bed. After breakfast, Faye took the dishes back to the dining hall, again leaving the small patchwork family alone. Finally, Cason let Dean fall asleep under one sheet, three blankets and two quilts. Kendel climbed on top of his chest and fell asleep shortly thereafter.

Cason knew that she needed to get up and go be productive and make sure that camp was running, but she also knew that someone had to watch Dean sleep. She was watching his breathing like a hawk, and took his pulse every five minutes, just to make sure that his heart rate wasn't doing anything weird. This process went on for four hours until Kendel woke up, then they played quietly on the floor of the cabin, still keeping a close eye on Dean.

After eight hours of solid sleep, Dean woke up long enough to go to the bathroom and get another cup of hot chocolate in him—which was probably the reason that he had to go to the bathroom. They tried to get him to eat something, but he was asleep again before Cason got back from the dining hall. After a minute of staring at Dean, Kendel looked at her mother and asked, "Does Daddy have any stuffed animals?"

Cason smiled. "No, sweetie, he doesn't."

Kendel looked deep in thought for a minute before asking, "Then how does he sleep at night?"

Cason froze for a moment, trying to figure out how exactly to answer her daughter's question. "He sleeps the same way we do. He goes to bed and closes his eyes and goes to sleep."

"But he doesn't have anyone to sleep with. Doesn't he get _lonely_?"

"Dean is a big boy. I think he can handle it," Cason teased. Kendel nodded and went back to playing in fairy land with her stuffed animal. Cason used it as a chance to get the cabin straightened up, because she knew that when Dean woke up the next time, he would probably feel up to having visitors, and she didn't want everyone coming in and seeing her cabin a complete mess. It didn't matter if it was the apocalypse or not, she still wanted to be able to take some pride in her home.

Dean didn't wake up until another six hours later when Cason was checking his pulse. With a sigh of contentment, he turned towards her touch. When she pulled her hand away, he opened his eyes. Upon realizing that it was Cason who had been touching him, he closed his eyes again, took a moment to try to get it together, and then opened his eyes to face the world.

"You're awake!" Kendel cried, hopping up and down in delight He noticed that now she had on thick, warm pajamas.

"Is it bedtime for you already?" he asked.

She nodded. "You sleeped for a long time. Are you gonna sleep some _more_?"

"Probably. I'm really tired, sweetheart. But I have to go back to my cabin now."

"Oh no you don't," Cason said, cutting in. "You need to be watched for at least twenty-four hours after something like that. Tonight, you sleep here."

"And where are you going to sleep?" he asked. There was some practicality to the question, but she thought she heard some genuine curiosity and interest underneath it. A small smile played at the corner of his lips, telling her that she hadn't imagined the interest.

"I'll be monitoring your breathing and heartbeat, so this chair is my resting place for the night," she answered, pulling up the chair beside the bed.

"Cason, there's no way. When was the last time that you got any sleep?"

"I slept last night," she lied. "Unlike you. I'll be fine. Once you have a steady stream of visitors, I'll take a nap. I'll be fine. I promise."

"You have dark circles under your eyes. Don't lie to me."

"Fine. I slept two nights ago. But I'll be fine. It's not a big deal."

"Cason—"

Thankfully, Kendel interrupted them, keeping Cason from having to reveal just how exhausted she was. The little girl was standing at the window, watching Yaeger and his wife walk towards their cabin, hand-in-hand. When she saw his wife kiss him on the cheek, she turned to Cason and Dean and asked, "Are Mr. Yaeger and Mrs. Melanie a mommy and daddy?"

"No, sweetie, they don't have any children," Cason said.

"But they kiss like a mommy and daddy."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, trying to understand what was going on in the child's mind. He never remembered having to have that conversation with Sam.

"She kissed him like Mommy kissed you. On the cheek."

"Mr. Yaeger and Mrs. Melanie are husband and wife. They're married, and they love each other very much, but they don't have any kids, so they aren't a mommy and daddy," Cason tried to explain.

Kendel's forehead wrinkled as she looked back and forth between Yaeger and his wife, and Cason and Dean. "So are you and Daddy husband and wife?" she finally asked.

Cason's eyes widened at the question, and for a split-second, she couldn't think of anything to say. Glancing over at Dean, she saw that she was going to get no help in answering the question, because he was too busy raising his eyebrows and looking at her expectantly.

"No, we're not. You don't have to be husband and wife to be a mommy and a daddy. I mean, you should…that's the right thing to do, but you don't have to be. But no, Dean and I are not married."

Kendel climbed on the bed and under the covers with Dean, her forehead wrinkled, her lips pouty. "Well…you should be married," she said.

"Welcome to parenthood. It will keep you on your toes," Cason said, laughing.

"Speaking of being on your toes, you really do need to get some sleep. Sleep in Faye's bed or go to my cabin or climb up here with us, but you really do need to go to sleep. You look dead on your feet."

"Yeah! Sleep with us, Mommy!" Kendel exclaimed, fighting back a yawn. "Please. Then it will be Mommy, and Daddy, and Kendel all in the bed."

"I need to watch—"

"Yeah, come on, Mommy," Dean teased, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Realizing that she couldn't win, she sighed and went into the bathroom to pull on her pajamas. She could still monitor is heartbeat and breathing lying in the bed. It was a tight squeeze, but they all fit. Dean on one side, Cason on the other, and Kendel in the middle. Kendel wrapped her tiny hands around her parents, and was asleep in minutes.

When Faye came in two hours later, she found the whole family asleep. Kendel had snuggled in between her parents, holding one of their hands in each of hers. Even more surprising, though, was the fact that Cason's fingers were tightly intertwined with Dean's, and both of them were smiling in their sleep.


	10. Lonely

**Author's Note: **So, again, sorry for the delay. It took me a while to get this chapter the way that I wanted it to be. anyway, thank you for your patience, and thanks so much to those that reviewed, read, alerted, and favorited this story. Y'all are awesome.

**Kazza03-** Here is another chapter for you. Thanks for the review!

**DanniMitchell85-** I couldn't help but think of all the times I've heard kids ask about things like that, and I thought that since Kendel is a curious child, it was definitely something she would ask. Thanks for the feedback, and I hope you like this chapter!

**kate-melissa-**I couldn't resist having a family moment, even before Cason and Dean really realize that they are a family. Thanks for the support and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

**-Winchester-**I'm super glad that you like the cuteness. Kids are great for things like that. I hope you like this chapter, which is slightly less cute, but there's some other stuff to make up for it.

**GoLdFiSh_Oo-**I've never had anyone describe my writing as "cheeky" before, and it totally made my day. Thanks for the feedback!

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"Tap out," Cason whispered in Dean's ear for the third time that morning. "If I knock you out again, Cas is going to have to carry you back to your cabin, and he's going to be pissed."

He didn't answer, but instead grunted and rolled over into the mud, trying desperately to get Cason off of his back before he had to tap out. With the final bit of strength he had, he flopped backwards into the ground, crushing Cason with his body. Her grip loosened for a split-second, and with a burst of speed she didn't think he had left, he was out of her hold and sitting on her chest. She tucked her elbows in and tried to pry his thighs apart, but he just squeezed tighter around her ribcage. The air rushed from her lungs, and seconds later, his forearm was on her throat, cutting off her air supply.

"Tap out," he whispered, leaning in close. It was the only opening she needed. She head butted him in the face—just hard enough to hurt, not enough to break anything—but she couldn't get out from underneath him. The mud was cold against her back—they had had snow flurries that morning—and she was trying to keep from shivering. Only her thick sweater and the heat from Dean's body were keeping her from doing so. In a last desperate attempt to get out of the mud, she elbowed him as hard as she could in the thigh—and hit a nerve. His left leg loosened, and she squirmed free. Before he had a chance to completely recover, she had his arm twisted behind him in a shoulder lock.

"Okay, you can let me go now," Dean said through gritted teeth, trying not to show her how painful that shoulder lock was. Immediately, she let go of his arm and helped him to his feet. Others had gathered to watch them spar, and the novelty hadn't worn off. There was still a crowd of people watching them, despite the fact that they were both clearly too cold and exhausted to continue.

Cason turned and addressed the crowd. "We're looking at maybe having some bad weather. If it snows, we want to be prepared. If you have a bathtub in your cabin, fill it with water. If you need to bathe, do it now. If you have any repairs that are absolutely dire, let Dean or myself know so that we can get them taken care of before the bad weather rolls in."

Her announcement seemed to snap Dean out of whatever trance he was in, and he added, "If for any reason, the power should go out, I want everyone to bring all of their blankets to the dining hall. We have a fireplace and a back-up generator that will keep everyone warm enough. Go ahead and have any emergency things you might need ready to go. Just in case."

These announcements sent the people scattering in different directions, headed for cabins and showers. A few people came with concerns—a cracked window pane, a broken space heater, a few more blankets needed. Dean worked on fixing the space heater while Cason boarded up the cracked window. They would worry about getting new glass later, but if there was going to be bad weather, they didn't want to wait to get it covered. After she finished boarding up the window, she headed to her cabin to shower.

When she arrived, she found Faye and Kendel sitting in the floor, Kendel animatedly telling the older woman a story about a far away land with pink skies and purple water. Upon seeing her mother, Kendel stopped telling her story and tried to give her mom a hug. The mud brought her up short.

"You're dirty, Mommy," Kendel said, sounding confused. She had dark circles under her eyes and a slight flush in her cheeks, but she hadn't slept well the night before. Cason imagined that if she could see herself, she would probably find herself looking the exact same way.

"Yeah, I was doing some work in the mud."

"Your mom got me all muddy, too," Dean said as he walked through the door, still covered in mud as well.

"You need a baff," Kendel answered, wrinkling her nose, though all the adults in the room could tell that she was itching to give both her mother and her adopted father a hug.

"Well, I'll go take one after I have a chat with your mother, okay?" Kendel nodded in satisfaction and returned to playing tiredly with Faye. Cason and Dean slipped outside onto the steps.

"You're exhausted, Dean. You took two days off after your little swim in the creek, and you've been running yourself ragged ever since. You've got to stop and take care of yourself," Cason said immediately. "That's the only possible way I could have beaten you three times in a row this morning."

"You've beaten me before," he replied tiredly. And she had. They found themselves to be fairly evenly matched. What Cason didn't have in size and strength, she made up for in speed and stamina. Dean was so big, he could pretty much out muscle anyone he ran up against. But they were both smart fighters. They could think strategically. It was only when one of them wasn't paying attention—which was usually when they were tired—that they had total domination by one of the two.

"Not three times in a row. You were exhausted and sluggish and I kicked your ass. Except for that last little lucky flop you had, I kicked your ass."

"Right. Believe it or not, I didn't come by to get scolded. I came by to see if you have everything we need for the snowstorm. And besides, you look just as rough," he grumbled. She smiled at his grumble, because even though it was the end of the world as they had known it, despite his responsibility, he still managed to somehow have moments where he reminded her of a six year old. In those moments, she wanted to take the beer out of his hand and remind him that he wasn't quite old enough for that yet.

But she knew that she probably did look just as bad as she said he did. With Kendel's tossing and turning last night, and the fact that she was still trying to figure out this whole weird co-parenting thing with Dean, she hadn't exactly been relaxed, either.

Sometimes the lines were crystal clear between them. Kendel loved them both, and they loved Kendel. Each of them would do anything for her: move mountains, ford rivers, slay dragons or whatever. But then there were other times when the line between being a co-parent blurred into the lines of something else. It hadn't really crossed her mind until she woke up in bed with him and Kendel, her fingers entwined with his. Okay, so she had thought about it before, but she didn't want to admit it to herself.

At first, she thought that maybe his flirting with her was all in her head. Then, after giving him a kiss for "good luck," she had realized that clearly it was not just in her head. But there was always the possibility that he was flirting with a set of tits and ass. Or maybe legs. He struck her as a leg man. But then there were other moments when she was sure that he was flirting with _her. _But it was too complicated and tiring and she just didn't want to think about it.

But then Faye had brought it up one night after Kendel had drifted off. She had been kind and gentle in her suggestions.

"Dean is a good-looking man, you know," Faye had said. Cason had laughed. It wasn't that she hadn't noticed, because she had. It was just that she never really stopped to think about it when the world was ending and she had to worry about a kid.

"He is a good-looking man," Cason had answered neutrally.

"And he loves Kendel. And Kendel loves him."

Finally, Cason had sighed, knowing where the conversation was going. She figured that she might as well go ahead and get it out of the way, because once Faye had it in her mind to say something, she said it whether you wanted to hear it or not. "Alright, Faye. Just go ahead a say it. You've got something to say, I know you do. So just let it out."

"I just think that it wouldn't hurt you to consider that young man, that's all. He's been making moon eyes at you for weeks now."

"You and I both know that Dean Winchester doesn't make moon eyes at anyone. And besides, when he decides that he wants a woman, he makes it pretty damn—I mean, he makes it pretty clear," Cason had replied.

"He is making it clear. I can see it, and I'm old. Besides, it isn't just that he wants to get you in bed; he wants _you_."

After that, she had started to notice all the things that might have been giving Faye the impression that Dean was interested; the way that he sat with her and Kendel at breakfast, the way he walked her back to her cabin, the way that he occasionally smiled at her—which was more than he smiled for anyone else—the way that he would come to the cabin to ask a trivial question that Chuck or Cas could have answered just to see her and Kendel. Yes, she was starting to see why Faye thought that he was interested.

But then she had started to think that he was, too. The way that he had tricked her into a kiss, or the way that he had been so unwilling to let go of her hand when they had all woken up in bed together. Just the fact that they had slept in the same bed with Kendel should have tipped her off. But despite all the signs, she tried to keep her emotions contained. What he was doing with Kendel was fine; it wasn't hurting her daughter and the little girl loved it. But trying to get involved with him was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

But he was making it hard. Here he was standing on her steps, checking on her and Kendel—making sure that they had everything they needed for the storm. She sighed.

"Yeah, we've got everything we need. We snagged a loaf of bread from the pantry—there's been one allotted to each cabin—so we should be fine until any bad weather passes. Did we get some of the medicine moved into the dining hall out of the supply cabin?" she asked.

"Yeah. Enough to get by for a few days, should we need to."

"Good…you really should go shower, you know. That mud is cold and you don't want to be any colder than usual if we do get this bad weather," Cason suggested.

He raised an eyebrow as he studied her. "You've still dirty, too. We could, uh, save some water and share a shower."

She rolled her eyes and grinned. "Go take a _cold _shower, Casanova."

Despite her playful rejection, he walked away with a smile on his face. As soon as he was gone, Cason went back into her cabin and jumped in the shower. Showers didn't exactly get hot, but they were better than being freezing cold. She took care to scrub every speck of dirt and grime off of her skin and out of her hair. If they had bad weather, she did not want to be grungy throughout the whole indoor incarceration. After ensuring that all the dirt was gone, she dried off and quickly dressed in her warmest outfit—long johns, a thick green wool sweater, fleece-lined jeans, and thick boots with several pairs of socks.

Kendel was in the bed when she came out of the bathroom. She looked so tiny in the bed with all the blankets piled on. She wasn't asleep yet, but her eyes were getting heavy and Cason knew that she was about to drift off into la-la land.

"Kendel, what are you doing in the bed?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sleepy, Mommy. I'mma take a nap."

"Okay. Sweet dreams, sweetie. I'll wake you up if it snows, okay?" Kendel just nodded and stared out the window. Moments later, she sat up and pointed.

"The lights just went out in Daddy's cabin!" she said. Cason immediately looked out the window and saw that the child was right. Dean wasn't the type to turn the light off if he was in his cabin—not before two o'clock in the morning, anyway.

"Stay here, okay sweetie?" Cason said, grabbing her gun from its place beside the door. She pulled on her coat and headed to Dean's cabin as quickly as she could without slipping on the frozen ground. "Dean!" she called, bursting through the door. He didn't answer. She could hear the shower running, and that was it.

"Dean?" Still no answer. Drawing her gun, she crept to his bathroom door. After a deep breath, she pushed it open and stepped inside, gun drawn.

Instead of finding Dean in a heap on the floor as she had expected to, she found him very much alive and well in the shower. He was lathering up his arms, as if the most private moment of his day had not just been interrupted by a crazy woman with a gun. Instead, he just grinned at her and asked, "Changed your mind?"

She lowered the gun. "Not so much. Kendel saw the lights go out and we thought that something was wrong. I was just checking to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah. Fine here. A little lonely." He finished rinsing the soap away and stepped out of the shower, not bothering with a towel. Shocked, Cason turned her back. "What? It's not like you haven't seen it before."

"I thought you were about to die of hypothermia. That was little different," she said with a sigh.

"Right. Can you hand me the clothes on the counter?"

She handed them to him, and stepped out of the bathroom so that he could change. It also gave her a moment to compose herself. It wasn't everyday that she walked in on someone with the body of a Greek god naked and wet in the shower. The only thing that kept Dean from having the perfect body was the array of scars that crisscrossed over his body. It wasn't a pattern of scars, just the kind that came from normal wear and tear: scars from fights, from household maintenance gone wrong, from adventuring. But she kind of like those scars. They suited him.

"Is there something you need?" Dean asked, coming out of the bathroom, fully clothed this time.

"No, I just…Kendel wanted to know if you wanted to stay with us during the bad weather. She's afraid of you getting lonely. I didn't have the heart to tell her that you probably had sweet Miss Jane or Miss Risa keeping you company. That would be traumatic for her," Cason said joking as she spoke of her rivals.

Dean didn't answer the way she thought he would. There was no joke, no smile, no charming comeback. Instead, he stepped closer to her; close enough for her to feel the heat of his body, to smell his deodorant, to feel his breath on her skin. It was alarming, that closeness. She hadn't been that close to another human being—Kendel excepted—since she had…gotten pregnant.

"They don't keep me company," he whispered. "Not anymore."

Her breath caught in her throat. He was telling the truth; after spending months with the man, she had managed to figure out when he was lying, and he definitely wasn't lying to her.

"Well…we don't want you to be lonely. I mean, us…as in Kendel and Faye and me. We don't want you to get—"

And then she couldn't speak anymore because he was kissing her. His arms were around her, pulling her tiny body against his larger one. Almost without thinking, she slipped her arms around his neck and gave in. His lips were softer than she had expected; the whole kiss was softer than she expected. She had thought that kissing Dean Winchester would be like sparring with him: every second a constant fight for dominance. But he was in charge, and she was okay with that. Especially when he was kissing her like this.

His hips were pressing against hers, and she could feel the growing tent in his jeans. Immediately, she froze. It was only for a split second before she was kissing him again, but he noticed the hesitation and pulled away.

"Are you…I forgot about…with Kendel's dad—real dad, I mean. That was, I should—"

She pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. "No. Do not _ever _call that man her "real father." You are you real father. Being a parent isn't just about DNA. You're more a father to her than anyone."

Hearing those words, he smiled and kissed her again. She wanted to give in, to stumble with him to his bed and see what passion felt like, but she couldn't. "Kendel—"

"Looked like she was nearly down for the count. She won't know—" He stopped as he realized that he was pushing her. He tried to step away, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I should—"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, because he was kissing her again. This time, she stopped fighting and kissed him back completely and fully, with no reservations. She let her hands run over his back, feeling the firm, strong muscles beneath his thick sweater. His hands were on her hips, slipping under her sweater. His fingers grazed over her wicked, nasty scar—

When a scream interrupted them.

Instantly, they pulled away from each other and glanced at the door. Dean grabbed his pistol, they both checked their clips, and they were taking off out the door, headed towards the sound of the scream. The cries for help, they realized, were coming from Cason's cabin. Dean had never seen Cason move as fast as she did then. By the time he caught up and got into the cabin, he found her sitting on the floor, holding Kendel in her arms. Kendel, he noticed, wasn't moving.

"Kendel, sweetie, wake up. Wake up for me. Mommy needs you to wake up," Cason was begging her daughter, tapping her cheeks and blowing on her face.

"What happened?" Dean asked Faye, who was sitting on the floor beside the mother and daughter.

"Kendel got up to go to the window—she was looking at your cabin—and she took about three steps and collapsed on the floor," the older woman explained, her voice shaky, tears in her eyes.

"Kendel, please sweetie, you're scaring Mommy. I need you to wake up…" Cason was staring at him, and he could see the fear in her eyes, the pain and the terror. He dropped to his knees beside her and took Kendel's hand in his. Noticing some heat, he moved his hand to her forehead to gauge her temperature.

She was burning up. Kendel, his daughter, was sick. And he knew without looking that they didn't have the medical supplies for this.


	11. Loss

Cason had said their daughter's name so many times that he had lost count. He saw the tears that were threatening to spill over as all the worst case scenarios were coursing through her mind. She tried to calm herself, to walk through everything so that she could figure out a course of action. Instead, everything was jumbled.

"Kendel, please. You're scaring Mommy. Please wake up for me," she whispered, running her hand across her daughter's forehead. Dean was frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. When Sam had been sick as a kid, he could take him to the doctor or even the hospital if it was bad. But now there were no doctors; there were no hospitals—not safe ones, anyway. They were just going to have to do the best of what they could scrounge up. And this was not what Cason was going to want to here. It wasn't what Dean wanted to think. It wasn't what was best for Kendel.

But first thing's first—they needed to know what was wrong. He dropped to his knees beside his daughter and her mother, putting a hand gently on Cason's shoulder. "Cason, I know you don't want to, but we need to find out what is going on with Kendel. We need to look her over, okay?"

Cason shook her head and held her daughter tighter. He could see the almost wild look in her eyes and knew that there was no way he was going to get her to let go of their daughter. So instead, he tried another approach.

"Cason, if we're going to help her get better, we've got to find out what's wrong. She needs you right now, and you've got to be tough. Now let's get her wrapped up in a blanket and take her to the medical cabin so that we can look her over. That's an order," he said, his voice somehow rough and soft at the same time. It was a command, but a gentle one. It left no room for argument, but it also said that he understood, that he was absolutely terrified, too.

She nodded silently and complied. She wrapped Kendel in her down comforter and took off for the medical cabin. Cason walked carefully, determined not to trip and hurt her daughter even worse with a fall. It didn't help that some of the camp had heard Faye screaming and had come running. They were all standing around, staring at Cason as she carried her unconscious child across the camp to the medical cabin. Dean was right on her heels, and the look on his face made if more than clear that no one was to interfere with them.

As soon as she set Kendel down on the table and pulled the blanket away, Cason's tears became sobs. They weren't tiny, hiccupy sobs. No, they were full-on, body-wracking, can't-stand-upright sobs. Only a tight grip on the table was keeping her from dropping to the floor. Dean tried to wrap an arm around her waist, but she shrugged him off, pulled on some gloves and went to work.

Very carefully, they undressed the little girl, looking for something—any sign that would tell them what was wrong with her. Looking over Kendel's tiny little body, they finally found what they were looking for: underneath her left arm was a huge, red knot. The redness expanded in a huge circle around the knot—which was hotter to the touch than the rest of her body.

"Oh god," Cason whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

"What?" Dean asked.

"That's a staph infection. It could be MRSA—"

"What the hell is that?"

"I means methicillin-resistant staphylococcus aureus," she said in her best mocking doctor voice. "It's resistant to antibiotics. If she has it..."

She couldn't even bring herself to finish the sentence, to entertain the idea that her daughter could be taken away from her. Dean didn't need her to finish her sentence, not when her reaction made it very clear what was going on. He clenched his jaw and desperately hoped that Cason was wrong, that his daughter wasn't dying. He refused to think about the fact that he might have to build a child-sized coffin and bury his daughter.

"That wasn't there yesterday," Dean whispered.

"It can go from nothing to a huge knot in hours."

"How do you know this?"

"I had it in college," she answered, her voice dead.

He tried to keep her talking, to get as much information out of her as he could before she completely shut down. "How did they treat it when you had it?"

"They had to cut a chunk out of my leg and I was on IV antibiotics a week. And they were special sulfur-based antibiotics."

"They cut your leg? Like, they cut the…pus out of your leg?"

"Yeah," she answered. "They drained it."

"Well, that's something that we can do," he said. Immediately, she turned and stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had.

"We can't cut it open. We don't have antibiotics to treat it with, and we're opening her up to more infection. We could kill her!"

"If we don't do something, she's going to die anyway."

As soon as the words were out of Dean's mouth, he regretted them. Cason was crying again, and looking like she was about to fold in on herself. He had never seen her look this fragile before. Even when she had had a knife in her side and he was stitching her up, she had never looked this fragile. She looked very nearly like a broken woman.

He wondered if he looked the same, or if he had that empty look in his eyes. That empty look that he had seen too many times in people who had lost everything. People who didn't really care anymore about anything because there was just no point in going on. No, he had Kendel and camp. And Cason. So he pulled Cason into his arms and didn't let her go, even when she tried to shrug him off.

"Cason, I'm not going to let her die. I promise. We'll find a way."

"And how are we going to do that? Ask any of the friendly neighborhood croats if they happen to know where we can find some antibiotics? I'm sure that will go over well," she snapped, though the barb fell flat as she leaned heavily on him.

"There's a hospital nearby. If I leave now, I can get there in an hour—"

"That's without evasive maneuvers. Going in without taking precautions is like asking to get yourself killed," Cason said flatly, her voice dull. "I'll go—"

"Hell no. You can barely stand up straight. How the hell are you going to make it to a hospital, find the antibiotics, and make it back?" Dean asked. She knew that he had a point, but refused to give it any credence.

"I can't just sit here on my ass and do nothing. I have to try—"

"That's what I'm doing. You need to stay here with her. That way, if something happens, she isn't an orphan—"

"If we can't find her the right medicine, it won't matter. I'm going." Her voice told him that there was no room for argument. Dean just nodded and walked out the building, calling over his shoulder, "Meet me at the gate in ten mintues. I'll get Frank to come sit with her."

Cason stood there over her daughter and struggled to keep all of her memories at bay. She remembered the first time that Kendel had fallen and skinned her knee. She remembered the first time she nursed. She remembered Kendel drawing and pinning them to the wall. She remembered teaching her daughter how to pray.

"Kendel, you are being so brave. You're being so brave for me, sweetie, and that's great. I need you to keep hanging in there and being tough and strong for me, okay? Because Mommy and Daddy are going…we're going to find some medicine to make you better. We will find it. But I need you to hold on until then, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Of course, the child didn't answer, but Cason still felt a little bit better for having talked to her. She kissed her lightly on the forehead and squeezed her hand tightly. "Remember, Mommy loves you bunches and bunches."

When she turned around, Dean and Frank were standing in the doorway, waiting for her. She just nodded and slipped out of the building, leaving the two men staring after her in worry. Frank squeezed Dean's shoulder and stepped out of the building, giving him a minute with Kendel.

"Hey, Kendel," he whispered, taking her tiny hand in his much larger one. "You're going to be alright, I promise. I know some stuff that not a lot of other people know, and…I'm going to make sure you're okay, but I need you to hang in there. Your mom's a mess…well, she's always a mess, but…but don't worry because I'm going to take care of things." He kissed her lightly on the forehead and fought the tears that were spilling down his cheeks. "Daddy loves you. A lot. Bunches and bunches. Hundreds and millions of bunches."

Then he left, not bothering to wipe his tears away, and made his way to the gate, where Cason was waiting beside the Impala, armed to the teeth. She had a machete strapped to her thigh, a few knives on the other leg, a bow and a quiver of arrows in one hand, a shotgun in the other. He was willing to bet that her pistols were hidden in that coat somewhere, too. Of course, he was pretty armed, too. No croat or demon or whatever was going to stand in the way.

They were on the road a minute later. Dean didn't bother trying to be careful with this driving. He didn't care that there were already some places where the road was frozen. He didn't care that it wasn't dark yet and that they would be in full view of croats. They were too focused on getting to the hospital to see what was left.

"This town has only been vacant for a few months, so we might be able to find something," Dean said, trying to be soothing.

"And if we don't find something?"

"We will." His voice left no room for argument or questioning. His tone told her that he wasn't going to let her daughter die. But then, he wasn't a doctor, so she wasn't entirely sure how he was going to save her.

"There's a Jeep behind us. They've been following us for the past fifteen minutes," Cason said quietly. Dean studied the car in the rearview mirror and swore.

"It's Cas. The son of a bitch came after us. Damnit."

Still, Dean didn't stop. He didn't stop until he pulled up in front of the hospital; their entrance hand been thankfully croat-free, but they weren't sure how long that was going to last. Drawing her pistol, Cason readied herself for an attack. When Cas and Faye got out of the car, they weren't ready. Not at all.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Cason snapped at Faye, furious.

"I'm coming on a mission. For Kendel."

"You're sixty-three years old, Faye. You're going to get yourself killed."

"I can watch your back. And if you two manage to get yourselves killed, Kendel is an orphan. So someone has to make sure that you two come back in one piece."

"Fine. Let's just get inside and out of the open. We've got to get in and get the hell out as fast as we can. And if it looks like the shit is about to hit the fan, you get out. You come get in this car and you drive away. Do you understand me?" Cason demanded. She turned to Cas. "And you! You should know better than to bring her here. What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"

Cas just shrugged pulled a shotgun from the back seat of the Jeep. He tossed a pistol to Faye, and the four of them made their way inside the run-down hospital. It was dark and quiet, but Cason could still hear the hum of electricity. That was good.

"Faye and I will take this wing. You and Cas take the—" Dean started.

"We should focus our efforts here," Cason said, pointing at a map of the hospital. "The infectious disease wing. That's where they would have this stuff."

Dean nodded, and they all headed towards the wing. The farther in they walked, the more uneasy Cason became. It was far too deserted. There should be squatters or croats or _someone. _It wasn't right.

"Dean," she whispered. "Something about this isn't right? Where is everyone?"

He shrugged and hoped that her gut feeling was wrong, that it was just dumb luck that they hadn't run into anyone else yet. He hoped, but who could tell? Unfortunately, he had seen Cason's gut feelings be right far too many times. He motioned to Cas and Faye. "Stay close."

They started searching the supply closets and medicine storage rooms, looking for anything that could be helpful. Of course, they didn't know what medicine had gone bad and what needed to be refrigerated or what anything actually did, but they knew that they needed something for Kendel. Along the way, they grabbed as much of everything that they recognized and stuffed it into their pockets and bags.

"What was it they gave you again?" Dean asked.

"Vancomyacin."

They kept looking, but it was nowhere to be found. They went through all the shelves in all the different areas that it should have been, but there was none. Cason was trying to quell her panic, but it wasn't working. Sinking to the floor, she took a deep breath and stared at the shelves as if she could will the drug to appear.

It wasn't until then that a realization hit her. "Guys, someone has been here before us. Everything is here except the vancomyacin. Everything else was pretty much untouched, and that's missing? There's no way that's a coincidence. Not when we haven't run into anyone else. It's like someone knew we would be coming, so they took what we would need," she whispered.

They all stared at her, terrified, because they knew that she was right. Everything in the medicine closet was as it should have been—untouched in its proper place. So what kind of trap had they just walked into? And how the hell were they going to get something for Kendel?

"Looking for this?" They all turned at the sound of a voice behind them. Standing in the doorway of the closet was a small child—a little girl—with a box of their drug in her hands. Her eyes were pitch black.

Without hesitating, Dean pulled his shotgun and fired at the place where the girl used to be, but she was no longer there. All of them were on alert, guns at the ready.

"You really should be nicer to me you know. I do have what you want," the demon said from behind them. "And besides, if you shoot me, you kill this pretty little girl that I'm wearing."

Cason froze. "She's still alive? She's still in there?"

"Oh yeah. She doesn't like your guns. She thinks they're scary. She wants to go home to her mom and dad."

"What do you want, you son of a bitch?" Dean asked, his anger coming through.

"I came to deliver a message. We couldn't very well deliver it while you were all holed up in your camp."

"You made my daughter sick?" he snapped.

"Aww, how sweet. No, that was just the first thing that drew you out. We might not be able to get in, but we are watching you, you know. Now, about that message…Lucifer wanted me to tell you that Sam is missing you like crazy."

Dean visibly paled at the demon's words, but managed to force an answer past his lips. "Sam's gone—"

"No. He's not. And he misses you. He was talking about maybe getting together for Thanksgiving—"

Dean shot at the space where the demon was, but again, she had moved too fast. Now she had reappeared behind Faye, holding the older woman in front of her as a shield. Faye's eyes were wide with terror, her breathing shallow and rushed. Cason froze.

"Come on, now Dean. Sam wants to meet your new girlfriend. I wouldn't shoot, if I were you. Not unless you want to kill granny and this little girl. Now, I'm just saying, he has something that he wants to discuss with you. You should consider it…especially if you want these antibiotics."

Dean stared at Faye for a moment, and saw the tiny, almost imperceptible nod of her head. Then, before anyone could move, he shot her three times through the stomach. Faye fell back into the demon, who dropped the meds as she tried to catch herself as she fell. Cason screamed and rushed forward, only to have Cas push her behind him. He grabbed the meds and ran. Cason tried to run to Faye, but Dean pushed her away. As he pushed her towards the door, he grabbed the machete out of her thigh sheath.

"I'll get her. Run!"

Dean ran to where Faye was lying, pinning the demon underneath her. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, trying to ignore the blood that was all over him. Then he stabbed the machete through the demon and into the floor, trapping it. Then he took off after Cas and Cason.

They didn't stop until they were outside the hospital, which was now crawling with croats. Cas and Cason managed to give him enough cover to get into the Impala and get it started. It wasn't until they were on the road, taking evasive action that he heard Faye make a sound. Until then, he had assumed she was dead, that he was carrying a body.

"D-did we get it?" she whispered.

"Yeah, Faye, we did. We got the medicine. Kendel's going to be fine," Dean said, taking her hand in his.

"Why would you do that?" Cason asked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked down at the woman who had come to be like a mother to her. "Why did you do that? We would have…we would have found another way."

"No…time. K-kendel's sick…and the demon was…killing you."

"She wasn't hurting us. We would have been fine. Dean knows how to handle these things. And I'm getting better—"

"Her words…they were killing you, Dean," she whispered, her voice getting fainter and fainter. She took Cason's hand and put it into Dean's. "Take care of each other, okay?"

"We will," Dean said quietly.

"Don't say that to me. You're not going to—"

"And tell Kendel that I love her…that I'll be…watching over her…" It was getting harder and harder for Faye to breathe, and Cason knew that they didn't have much longer with her. She looked at Dean, and saw the same knowledge in his eyes. Now wasn't the time to be angry at her or asking why she did what she did.

"We will," they said together. As soon as the words passed their lips, her eyes slipped closed and they did not open again. Cason let the tears flow, too tired to hold them back. She felt Dean's hand tighten around hers and knew that he was trying to be strong for her. He was trying to hold her together.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't thank me. I'm the one that shot her—"

"So that we could save Kendel—"

"Which we still have to do. Please, I can't…right now. Not about…this. I just can't," he said. And she knew what he meant. It was too much. He couldn't talk it out because when he opened that gate, when he explained why he did it, or why that demon's words were killing him, he might not be able to close the gate again. And he had to hold it together.

Kendel's life depended on it.

* * *

**Author's note: **So, congrats for getting to the end of what feels like a really long chapter to me. Thanks for the reads and reviews and alerts and favorites. It really makes my day that y'all have taken a liking to this story. I'm trying to update my other Supernatural stories soon, so be on the lookout. Also, about Kendel's quick-onset case of MRSA. I know it seems odd that she develops a huge knot and no one notices it, but it can totally happen. It happened to me. But anyway, just a note on the believability of Kendel's illness.

**DanniMitchell85-**Yeah...I kinda killed the mood with the whole Kendel thing...but I think this is going to open some new doors for them to get to know each other. So we'll see how it goes! Thanks for the review!

**Kate-melissa-**Here is another chapter and I hope you like it. I can totally see Dean standing in a shower and talking to someone who has intruded. It just seems like something that he would do. I'm glad you like it.

**kazza03-**Here's a quick update for you. I hope you like it!

**tvmaniac2008-**It makes me excited that you liked the kiss. That was one of the two things I got unanimous feedback on: yay! kissing, and don't kill Kendel. But anyway, I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last one.

**me09-**Thanks for the review! I was trying to find the right line between the happiness of kissing and the sadness of Kendel getting sick, so your comment definitely makes me feel better about that. Thanks!

***If I left anyone out of my thank-yous, let me know. is being a pain in the butt and I can't see everyone who left me reviews.


	12. Not an Option

**Author's Note: **So, here is another update for you, my lovely readers! Thanks to all of you who read/reviewed/alerted/favorited, because that completely makes it worth the writing. I hope that I'll be able to update more regularly, and I'll try, but I am currently trying to get into graduate school, and that is taking up a lot of time. So, I apologize in advance for any delay.

**tvmaniac2008-**I'm so glad that my story is like crack to you (or whatever your drug of choice may be)! It's such a compliment to have you say that, and I totally appreciate it. I hope that this chapter is just as satisfying as you hoped it would be.

**Alya_Kihaku-**I tried to watch how Dean interacted with Ben and get some idea of how he would be with Kendel, but I also realized that these are two different Deans, so I have a little bit of wiggle room. I'm glad you're liking the story, and thanks for the review!

**Nelle07-**It's good to hear from you again! You disappeared for a while, and it's good to have you back! I have to remind myself sometimes that Dean is the kind of guy who makes those decisions that no one else wants to make, and that's what he did with Faye. It's kinda a midway point between where he is now, and where he was in "The End." Hope you like this chapter!

**DanniMitchell85-**I definitely wanted a chance for Cason and Dean to get to know each other a bit better before I dropped the Sam bomb, because she needs to have some kind of knowledge of his character. If they were totally random strangers and she found out that he helped end the world...yeah, probably not going to go so well. So I tried to work it out, and I'm glad that you liked the way that worked.

**kazza03-**Here is another chapter for you! I hope that you like it and find it equally as addicting as the others!

**me09-**Thank you so much for the review! I'm glad that I'm able to keep you guessing and on your toes. Thanks for the encouragement, and I hope you like the chapter!

**Aria DeLoncray-**I'm glad that you like it, and hope that you like this chapter as well. Thanks for the review!

**GoLdFiSh_Oo-**Thanks for the feedback! I'm glad that you liked the chapter, even if it was a bit sad. I always get a little worried about killing characters off, but everyone has handled Faye's passing surprisingly well. Hope you like this chapter!

* * *

When they pulled into camp, Cason was slow getting out of the Impala—she shouldn't be, not when Kendel was sick, but she didn't want to leave Faye. It felt wrong to leave her lying there, alone, like she didn't matter anymore. She wanted to take her inside, to clean her up so that she looked less…

"Cason, Kendel's—"

"I know. But she…I don't want her to think that we're throwing her away…I guess it doesn't really matter now because she's not really in there anymore, but…You know, if it weren't for all the blood, she would look like she's sleeping…"

She felt the comforting weight of Dean's hand on her shoulder. "I'll get her."

Dean was gentle with Faye, almost as if he was making sure he wouldn't hurt her. He knew that she was gone, that she wasn't feeling any pain, and that it would be much faster to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away, but he couldn't. She had been like a grandmother to Kendel, and she had always been kind to him. So he gently lifted her out of the car and carried her to his cabin. Normally, the med cabin was used for those sorts of things, but he couldn't take her there. He didn't know if Kendel was awake yet, but he wasn't going to let her see Faye like that.

He felt the stares of all the others in the camp as he carried her to his cabin. Nearly half of the camp stepped forward to ask if they could help before the expression on his face told them that they couldn't. Tears streamed down many of their faces, but only Melanie Yaeger stepped forward. She was there when Dean set Faye down on his bed as if she were asleep and he was afraid to wake her.

"I didn't want Kendel to see her—" he started.

Melanie nodded. "I know. You go take care of Kendel, and I'll take care of Faye. And you should hurry. The weather's not looking so great—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he was gone, taking off towards the medical cabin to see what Cason and Cas were doing with Kendel. When he got there, he found Cason gloved, a scalpel in her hand. Cas was standing nearby, and surprisingly, so was Chuck.

"Okay, what are we doing?" Dean asked, trying to catch up.

"I-It's like you said earlier. We have to drain it, but I don't know how to do it the right way. I'm not a nurse or a doctor. The most I've ever done is stitch up a few battle wounds, and I don't really think that poke-and-push method is going to get the job done. I don't know how much of the antibiotic to give her or how to find a vein or anything. If you can tell me where to cut—"

Dean pulled Cason to him, cutting her off. She was trying to keep it together, and he knew that she would because she had to, but her anxiety was spreading. He couldn't afford to let himself get as nervous as she was. After all, he knew what he was doing; he had spent his entire life patching people up, and while he wasn't exactly a surgeon, he was pretty sure that he could handle lancing an abscess. It was the antibiotics that were going to give him trouble.

"I can do the cutting, and I can find a vein, but I have no idea how much antibiotic to give her," Dean answered. Cason's hands were shaking she pulled away from him and handed him the scalpel. She couldn't cut on her daughter. On anyone else, she would have been okay, but she couldn't cut on Kendel. If the little girl died, she would never forgive herself. Well, she wasn't going to forgive herself anyway, but it would be that much worse.

"I do," Chuck whispered nervously.

"You do what?"

"I know how much to give her."

"How, exactly, do you know this?" Dean asked.

"Any time that you or Sam was in the hospital, I saw it. That gives you a good idea of how these kinds of things work…and Cas had a medical textbook in his cabin. He was using it to, uh…balance his meds."

"Right. Okay."

And with that, they started their surgery. Kendel was still unconscious, and neither of them was sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. They didn't have the right meds to keep her completely sedated, and even if they did, they didn't know how to use them. The last thing that they wanted to do was overdose her on sedatives. But the fact that she hadn't regained consciousness was not a good sign, either.

As soon as Dean made the slightest cut, pus was oozing from the wound. Oozing wasn't really the right word; it was more of a flood. It was like watching a levee break—all the greenish-yellow fluid poured from the wound and onto Dean's glove-covered hands. Cason handed him a towel to wipe them on, and got a container for the rest of the drainage. But even after the wound was done draining, they noticed another problem. The infection had formed into a large, solid yellow-green mass.

"There's no way that's going to come out of that little cut," Cason whispered.

"Yeah…I'm thinking that we're going to have to cut around it and pull it out," Dean said. "Can you grab the tweezers?"

Before the question was out of his mouth, Cason already had the tool in hand. Dean carefully cut a larger hole in Kendel's side, and held the wound open as Cason reached in with the tweezers and pulled out what she could, depositing large, solid chunks into a nearby container. After a good twenty minutes, she was finally sure that she had it all. Neither Dean nor Cason had ever thought that it would be a relief to see blood, but now it was. Seeing blood meant that they had gotten all the pus out.

"According to this it says we shouldn't stitch her up. We should pack the wound with sterile gauze and let it heal," Chuck said from the corner of the room. They had banished him there less than five minutes into the whole thing because his nervousness was only making theirs worse. He had spent every minute since then with his nose in what appeared to be the medical bible.

Cason and Dean did the best they could with the wound, packing it with clean gauze and covering it with a bandage. Now they just had to figure out the IV.

"There should be a little knobby thing where the bag meets the tubing—" Chuck started.

"Knobby thing?" Cason said skeptically. "You said that you knew how to do this. Now get your ass over here and do this."

Between Dean and Chuck, they managed to get the IV in child, but it didn't stop her parents from worrying. All the possibilities of what could go wrong were rushing through their minds. Did they have the right dosage? Did they have everything set up right? What if they couldn't keep the wound clean? The more that she tried not to think about the possibilities, the more she did think about it. She couldn't turn her brain off, which was what she needed to do.

Dean and Cason sat there, hand-in-hand, staring at their daughter for what felt like forever. Her little chest was rising and falling regularly and every time that they took her pulse, it was strong and regular. All good signs. She was still flushed with fever, but at least everything else was normal. And the antibiotics had to have time to work before her fever would fade.

It wasn't until Cas handed both a glass of whiskey that they looked away from their daughter, and then it was only long enough to see what he was giving them. With a single gulp, Cason downed the whole glass and set it on a nearby table. Dean held on to his, nursing it slowly as he tried to think about how they were going to handle Kendel's situation. Cason interrupted his thoughts.

"What are we going to tell her about Faye?"

Dean stared into his whiskey, wondering the same thing. He hadn't had to tell Sam about that sort of thing until he was older—until he was old enough to understand the concept of death. But Cason was four years old, and four was far too young to have to explain that someone had died. Not that they had died, but that he had killed her. He wasn't sure that he could tell his daughter that he had killed Faye. He didn't like the idea of her knowing that about him.

"I don't know. What do you want to tell her?" he finally answered.

"I guess we tell her that Mrs. Faye went to Heaven. That's what my parents told me when I was her age. That she went to Heaven to be with the angels."

Dean was unable to keep back a snort of derision. The idea of angels waiting in Heaven to greet people had long been ruined, replaced with the ideas of a certain suit-wearing, balding angel that liked to give him stomach cancer. Gone was the idea of fierce, protective angels and a God who cared.

"What?" Cason asked, defensive.

"Nothing. If that's what you think we should tell her—"

"Well what would you say? That Faye's gone, she's not coming back, and you're never going to see her again?"

He was silent for a long time, remembering how lonely Heaven had been for its occupants. Ash sitting around in the Roadhouse on his laptop for all eternity, Pamela doing her show for ever…all isolated from the people that they had loved. But he knew that Cason was right; he couldn't tell his daughter that Heaven was a lonely place where you lived some of your favorite memories over and over again, unable to change them.

"I—We'll tell her what you think is best," he answered with a sigh, realizing that no matter how much he wanted to tell Kendel that Heaven was a nice place, he was going to choke on the words.

"No," Cason said. "I want to know why you don't like this idea. Is it Heaven that you have a problem with? God? Angels? Do you not believe in that sort of thing?"

He laughed bitterly, and she found that she hated the sound. "No, it's not that I don't believe. I wish that I had the choice to not believe, but that's not an option anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath, and she could tell that whatever it was, she didn't want to tell him. Reluctance was written all over his face. But he was going to tell her, because she deserved to know. She deserved to know why he was a bitter man that went through a bottle of whiskey every few days.

"A few years back…before all the shit hit the fan…" He trailed off, trying to find some way to put it so that he didn't sound like he was completely insane. Of course, she had been educated at this point about demons and monsters, and hadn't thought he was nuts, so he didn't see why angels would be any different.

"Sam and I freed Lucifer from Hell," he said bluntly, unable to think of another way to phrase it.

She stared at him for a long moment, not so much in shock as confusion. It was almost as if she believed him and was trying to figure out the specifics of it. "I'm assuming that you didn't do it on purpose," she finally said.

"No, it wasn't on purpose."

"What happened?" she asked, taking his hand and leaning against him, trying to give him some sort of comfort.

"It's a long stor—"

"Well, it's snowing outside, and Kendel's not going anywhere. I've got plenty of time."

"When I was four years old, my mom was killed by a demon. After that, my dad took me and my brother on the road, trying to find it. We spent years on the road, always moving, killing whatever we could find. Sam got out and went to Stanford—"

"Stanford? That's impressive."

"Yeah, well, he didn't graduate. His girlfriend was killed and he went on the road with me to find our dad. We found him, and he got himself killed saving my life."

"Did you get the bastard that killed your mom?"

"Yeah, we did. But, uh…Sam…died, and I couldn't leave him that way, so I…I made a deal with a crossroads demon—"

"You sold your soul to the devil at the crossroads. So what they say about Robert Johnson—"

"It's true. We tried to take down the demon that held my contract, Lilith, but we couldn't…I wound up in Hell for…awhile. And while I was there, I broke the first of the sixty-six seals that were keeping Lucifer in his cage. "When a righteous man sheds blood in Hell" and all that—"

"So you were actually in Hell. Like, devil, lake of fire, endless torture kind of Hell?" she asked. It wasn't skepticism in her voice; he could tell by the way she was looking at him and comforting him that she believed every word that had come out of his mouth. With everything that she had seen, why shouldn't she believe him? No, she seemed…amazed. He just nodded. "A righteous man sheds blood in Hell? You shed blood…?"

He nodded, his head down, too ashamed to look her in the eye. "I tortured souls in Hell. They tore me apart and put me back together for thirty years, and I couldn't take it anymore. It was like…and when they gave me a chance to get off the rack, I said no at first. But then…I said yes. And then I broke the first seal. And then Heaven's finest came along and pulled me out. Angels told me that I had a destiny, that I had to stop the seals from being broken so that Lucifer wouldn't be free. But the little bastards were _letting _the seals get broken. They wanted to bring in paradise, and the only way to do that was to free Lucifer so that Michael could beat him," Dean whispered, still staring at his hands. Surprisingly, Cason hadn't let go of him. Instead, she seemed to be holding his hands tighter.

"The angels wanted the end of the world?" she asked.

"So that there would be paradise on Earth. And the final seal was killing the first demon—Lilith. And Sam was so hell-bent on revenge. I couldn't stop him, and Lucifer was free. And apparently, according to the angels, it was my destiny to stop him. To let Michael—"

"Archangel Michael?"

"One and the same. I was supposed to be Michael vessel. I was supposed to let him use my body to kill the devil. And Sam…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that his baby brother, the one that he would do anything for, the one that he had gone to Hell and back for, was the one that was supposed to let Lucifer in. He couldn't tell her that. The words were caught in his throat, and wouldn't come out. He was choking on them.

"And Sam was Lucifer's vessel," Cason finished for him. He stared at her, his expression asking the question. "It makes sense. Just as the angels are brothers, so are you and Sam. Not to mention, there's the whole "on Earth as it is in Heaven" thing."

He nodded. "Right. But, um, I wouldn't say yes. I wouldn't let Michael use my body. They tried everything. They gave us stomach cancer. They let us get killed and chased us through Heaven so that they could send us back to play our parts—"

"You've seen Heaven?"

"Yeah. It was lonely. Everyone was separated…except the soulmates, I'm told. But, we got sent back to the land of the living and had to find a way to ice the devil, so we came up with this plan to lock him back in his cage. Sam wanted to let Lucifer into his body, take control of it, and then throw himself back into the cage that Lucifer climbed out of…"

Dean took a deep breath, trying to find the strength to go on, to finish the rest of the story. It hurt to think about. It hurt to know that clearly, their plan hadn't worked. Every morning that he woke up and faced the world was a reminder of how badly things had gone, and how he hadn't done what he was supposed to. He remembered his dad's voice telling him that if he couldn't save Sam, he would have to kill him. He remembered Sam's face when he had talked about cleaning up his messes, and it was like a stab to the heart.

"And it didn't work. Lucifer is still in Sam somewhere. That's why the world went to hell in a handbasket," Cason whispered, not needing Dean to explain the rest. "Oh my god…I'm so sorry."

She pulled him closer to her, trying to give him some kind of comfort, even though she knew that nothing she did was going to make this pain any better. He felt her arms tighten around him, and for once he realized how nice it was to have someone close to him. She wasn't asking for anything from him, she wasn't trying to change him. She was just trying to help take some of the pain away, and the only thing she had to offer at the moment was her nearness.

"You're sorry? I helped end the world. I'm the reason that your parents are dead. I'm the reason that Faye's laying cold and dead in my cabin right now. I'm the reason that Kendel is here instead of in a hospital—"

"If you want to get technical, you're the reason that Kendel was born in the first place, and no matter how much that sucked, I wouldn't trade her for the world. So, maybe I should be thanking you," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He looked at her, and then looked over at Kendel. She wasn't his daughter—not biologically—but any decent human being knows that being a parent isn't just about DNA. He loved that little girl so much it hurt. And her mom…well, she was growing on him, too. She was proving to be far more understanding than any normal person should be. But then, it's the end of the world, so maybe normal is relative.

"Do you understand about the angels and Heaven now?"

She nodded. But as horrible as all of that was, she couldn't let her daughter not believe in something, in the goodness of the world. She had to have some belief that God was going to take care of them, even if he had let the world go to hell. Maybe it was for the sake of her own sanity, her own need to believe that God hadn't abandoned them, but she couldn't tell her daughter that Heaven was lonely.

"I do…but I can't—I can't let Kendel know that Heaven is lonely, or that the angels are assholes. I need her to have that innocence, just a little while longer," Cason whispered.

And Dean understood. He understood perfectly, because he had years of wishing the same thing for Sam. He had never wanted to tell Sam about why their mom wasn't around, or why they had to move all the time. He didn't want to have to explain why their dad came in with bruises and cuts, or why they had to melt the silver into bullets. Dean understood innocence, and he, too, wanted it for his daughter.

"I know. We'll figure it out," he said, kissing Cason gently on the forehead.

"And the demon's message, from Lucifer…we'll figure that out, too," Cason answered. He nodded, though he wasn't really sure how much figuring there was to do. Lucifer was trying to rattle him, for whatever reason.

"Ugh…"

There was a small sound coming from the table where Kendel lay. Immediately, both Dean and Cason rushed to her side, desperately hoping for something good. The little girl's face was scrunched up—her nose wrinkled, her mouth set in a frown—in pain, but she was awake. The minute she opened her eyes, their worries about angels and demons and devils were pushed aside for a brief minute while they basked in the joy of seeing their daughter awake.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, we're here," Cason said, taking her daughter's hand.

"My arm hurts…"

Immediately, Dean had some pain medicine—a piece of a piece of a tablet—ready for her. She took it, and after several minutes, she relaxed as it took effect.

"Love you, Mommy…Love you, Daddy," she whispered as she drifted off to sleep again.

"I love you, too," her mother answered.

"Bunches and bunches," her father finished.

And as soon as she was asleep, they were both wondering how the hell they were going to make this world—this broken, demon-filled, croat-overrun world—safe for their daughter. The odds were definitely stacked against them, but if there were two people who could find away, it was them.

Failure was not an option.


	13. Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled

**Author's Note: **A big thanks to everyone who read/favorited/put this story on alert. I hope that you like this chapter, and please review!

**DanniMitchell85-**Here is another chapter for you, and I hope that you'll like it. There's some more Dean/Cason moments for you, so I think you'll like it. Thanks for the review!

**kazza03-**I'm glad you're still addicted! I hope you like this chapter.

**BlueEyedPisces-**I'm glad that you feel like Dean's interaction with Cason and Kendel flows nicely. I always worry a little bit about writing him with them because it can be so stilted and awkward, so for you to say that it flows well is a huge relief for me. Thanks for the support, and I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

Kendel was asleep for a long time, waking up only long enough to eat and use the bathroom before falling back asleep again. The whole time Dean and Cason sat and watched her, occasionally taking her pulse and listening to her breathe. The heat faded from her skin as her fever broke, and her parents were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

They hadn't talked again about the Sam situation or demons or what they were going to tell Kendel about Faye. Instead, they sat together, watching their daughter and eating what Cas put in front of them. He probably could have served them brussel sprouts and they would have eaten them without question. Cason's eyes grew heavy, but she fought sleep, determined to stay awake.

"I'll watch her. You need the sleep. Take a nap," he whispered.

"I can't leave her."

He rose from his chair and made his way across the cabin to a closet, where he pulled out a fold up cot. Within three minutes, he had it set up next to Kendel's bed. "There. Now you can sleep."

"You need the sleep more than I do. I mean, you had hypothermia just a few—"

"Stop about the hypothermia. I'm fine, and you look like death warmed over. Lay down and get some sleep. I'll wake you up when I need a break," he said. There was tenderness and concern in his voice, underneath the annoyance. He knew that she really was concerned about him, but she looked like she was about to fall over. Her face was pale and drawn, dark circles under her eyes.

Finally, she nodded and lay down on the cot. Dean found that he didn't like this, not at all. She already looked tired, but under those stark white sheets on a cot, she also looked tiny, and fragile, and sick. And he didn't like that. His daughter was sick, and he didn't like the image of his girlfr—with her mother being sick, too. And the idea of her being fragile…well, he knew that she wasn't but he still didn't like it.

"Cason?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Is it…I won't fall asleep, I just—" He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself back into the smooth Dean Winchester that could get anything he wanted from any woman. "You just look so lonely, I thought maybe you'd want the company…"

She grinned sleepily and nodded, rolling over so that he could climb under the covers of the cot with her. It was a horribly tight squeeze; neither of them really had any room to move. His arms were warm and comfortable, and brought to mind the kiss that they had shared. Recalling it, she blushed furiously.

_Kendel_, she thought. _You have to keep an eye on Kendel. _

"You can't fall asleep. Kendel…" she whispered.

"I won't." And then, only after being reassured of her daughter's safety, did Cason let herself fall asleep. Dean lay there, looking back and forth between his daughter and her mother. It made him feel better to have Cason close to him, to feel her weight next to him. It was a comfort after seeing her look so small and fragile.

He wondered when she had last shared a bed with anyone other than Kendel. She had fallen asleep in bed with him and Kendel a week ago, but that had been at the request of her daughter—and he knew that she would do anything for that little girl. He wondered how hard this was for her—falling asleep in his arms—after what had happened to her. How hard was it for her to trust someone enough to let his happen? She sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to him, and he tightened his arms around her.

It almost hurt when he had to get up to check on Kendel; not because he didn't want to check on his daughter, but because he hated to leave her mother. But when he took her pulse and found that it was strong and regular, as was her breathing, he was relieved. Her fever had faded, and that was comforting, too. Then he returned to bed with Cason, who stirred.

"You can sleep now," she said upon waking. "I'll watch her."

He nodded, and lay back down with Cason. Before he could get settled, she started to slip from the bed. Before he could think better of it, he tightened his arms around her. Careful, wise eyes studied him before she nodded and lay back down.

"Do you need to get up?" Dean asked.

"I need to use the bathroom. I'll be right back, I promise," she whispered. He nodded, and she slipped out of his arms. Within minutes, she was back. As soon as she was back in bed, he put his arms around her and let himself go.

He looked so tired, she thought. Then again, the days had been long and he had been running himself ragged trying to keep camp together. She did what she could to take some of the responsibility off of him, but when he was around, he wanted to know _everything _that went on his camp. Now, all that responsibility was gone—at least for the short time that he was asleep.

He had told her about his past—his father, his brother, his own trip to Hell—and that was the ultimate act of trust for him, she realized, the same way that letting him be a father to her daughter was for her. The significance of his revelation wasn't lost on her. He opened himself to be ridiculed, scorned, and hated. But he was doing what the rest of them were doing, which was making the best of a really shitty situation.

Like the situation with Faye. It was a shitty situation, and she was trying to figure out what she was going to do. There were Bible verses that Faye had liked, and at least one of them should be read. Where would they bury her? It was snowing outside, so how the hell were they supposed to have a funeral? Dean would know more about the particulars, the where and the how of it. All she could do was choose verses and have them read.

Hours later, when she slipped out of his arms to check Kendel's breathing and pulse, he awoke. "How is she?"

"She's fine. Still sleeping," Cason whispered. "How did you sleep?"

"Good," he answered. "How are you?"

"I'm…I'm alright. We've got to think about Faye's funeral. I know that there were some verses she would want read. I don't know where you bury your dead—"

"We don't. It's safer to cremate the bodies," he answered. He tried to put it as delicately as possible, but it still took Cason by surprise. She was silent for a long moment before she answered.

"What do you mean, safer?"

"Lucifer has Death, the Horseman, on his side. He's not above resurrecting the dead, and we can't take the risk of him using her against us. And for health reasons."

Cason nodded, understanding. "I understand. When would we have the funeral?"

"As soon as the snow stops. Mel Yaeger took care of her."

"Thank you. For looking after her. And us. And thank you for trusting me."

He didn't answer with words, and he didn't have to. Words weren't easy, she knew, not when they actually meant something. It was too easy to brush it off, to say it was nothing, but it wasn't. It was important to him, and to her, and words weren't enough for him.

So he kissed her. It was slow and gentle, and he was completely giving her the freedom to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn't. The tenderness was comforting—she didn't feel threatened, didn't feel like she wanted to pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled her closer, giving him as much as he was giving her.

"Mommy? Daddy?" Kendel groaned as she woke.

In a flash, Cason and Dean separated and sat bolt upright. The little girl was wiping sleep from her eyes, and neither of them were entirely sure what she had seen. Instead of acknowledging what she might have seen, they asked her how she felt.

"My arm hurts," she whispered. "And I'm hungry."

"Okay. We'll get you some dinner," Dean said. He slipped out of the cabin and ran quickly to the dining hall to grab some dinner. Frank was in the dining hall, and he didn't even have to ask the question that was on his mind before Dean was answering. "Kendel's awake. Her fever's gone, and she's hungry."

"That's a good sign. Yaeger said that Faye—"

"She's dead. She got shot in the hospital trying to get Kendel's medicine." he said shortly. And then he was gone, out the door with Kendel's dinner.

When he got back in the medical cabin, tears were streaming down Kendel's chubby cheeks. Her face was red and blotchy, and she was nearly sobbing. Cason didn't look much different. He could tell that she was trying to hold it together for her daughter, but it was hard. Damn hard.

"Mrs. Faye is in Heaven?" Kendel asked.

Cason nodded, and looked to Dean. He nodded and took his daughter's tiny hand in his larger one.

"Can I go visit her?"

"No, sweetie, it doesn't work like that. When you die, your body stays here and your soul goes to Heaven. And once your soul goes to Heaven, it can't come back into your body. Mrs. Faye is in Heaven now, and she's happy there," Cason explained.

"She is? She's not lonely?"

Dean knew that it was the question that Cason had been dreading. But she wasn't going to let her daughter believe that Heaven was cold and lonely. And neither was Dean.

"No, she's not. There are other people in Heaven, too. And no one is ever scared or sick there. They're happy," he said. Cason, through her tears, smiled at him, thankful.

Kendel nodded. "So I don' get to see her no more?"

"Not for a while, honey. But it's okay, because Mrs. Faye is very happy there," Cason explained. Kendel buried her face in the front of her mom's shirt and sobbed. Cason looked to Dean, and he took her hand in his, giving her what little comfort he could. Kendel reached for him, too, and held both of her parents tightly while she cried for the only grandmother that she had ever known.

It took some work, but between the two of them, they got some food in the little girl. It took both of them to get her to the bathroom—one to carry the IV bag and another one to carry Kendel—but they managed it. Then another piece of a piece of a pain pill put Kendel back out.

The snow stopped in the middle of the night, meaning that they could have the funeral the next day. No one had any particular desire to see the body—even after the great trouble that Mel had gone through to make Faye presentable—but they did anyway. They came and paid their respects, and there was not a single person in the camp who didn't have respect for Faye. They said their goodbyes, made their peace, and went on to the funeral.

The pyre was set up on the edge of camp, and all of them gathered around. Cason managed to keep composed, but just barely. Kendel stayed in the med cabin, under the watchful eye of Mel Yaeger—who Cason was constantly thanking God for. She was still on the IV, and couldn't be brought out in the cold. She stood beside Dean at the funeral, until she stepped forward to say her piece.

"Faye was like a mother to me and a grandmother to Kendel. She was one of those people who was kind to those who were not kind to her. She was patient when most of us wouldn't have been, and she had the biggest heart of anyone that I have ever met. And it is that big heart, and that capacity to love, that kept me going through some of the darkest times in my life. She always gave me hope when I thought that there was none to be had. She soothed me when I was afraid. Faye gave me peace when I could find it nowhere else.

"John 14:27 says, 'Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.' We all know that this world is not peaceful. We wake up every day and go to sparring sessions. But Faye had peace that didn't come from her circumstances in this world. Now, I know she is at peace, a better peace than she could ever find in this world."

Having said what she needed to say, she returned to her spot beside Dean. She wanted more than anything to lean on him or to hold his hand, or to take some comfort in his nearness. But they were in front of the group, and she knew that if she leaned on him, she would probably lose it. But as she stood beside him, she felt his cold hand cover hers. She took it, felt his comforting squeeze, and let a few silent tears fall.

Dean lit the torch, and hand-in-hand with Cason, stepped forward to light the pyre. The camp stood around, watching it burn and saying their final goodbyes. Gradually, one by one, they left until only Dean and Cason remained, still standing hand-in-hand. Finally, Dean broke the silence.

"I killed her."

"You saved Kendel," she answered.

"And that little girl that the demon was possessing. I killed her, too."

"You saved Kendel. If I had gone in alone, I would be dead and you would be a single father. You did what you had to do to save our daughter, and as wrong as that may be, I can't fault you for that."

"I'm tired, Cason. To kill Lucifer, I'll have to kill my brother. I killed Bobby. I killed Faye. I'm tired of killing people that I care about," he said, his voice betrayed just how bone-tired he was.

"We'll take care of Lucifer, and you won't have to kill anyone else that you love. I won't let you," she answered, suddenly fiercely protective of him.

"And if something happens to you? If you get infected?"

"I promise that I won't put you in that situation. If that happens, I promise I'll be strong enough to do it myself. I just…well, never mind."

He nodded, and she noticed a single tear sliding down his cheek. She reached up and gently wiped it away. "What do you mean 'never mind?"

"If something happened to me, you'd be a single parent," she said quietly. He had never really thought of it that way, but it was true. He would be the only parent that Kendel had left in the world. He didn't like the idea of it, not at all, mostly because he didn't like the idea of losing Cason.

"Don't put me in that situation, either. Kid needs her mom."

Cason nodded and squeezed his hand. "Let's get back to her."

And so they walked hand-in-hand across camp, not really caring who saw them. They were still holding hands when they walked into the medical cabin, where Mel was telling Kendel a story. The little girl was completely fascinated, hanging on Mel's every word. Dean and Cason looked on, watching how good Mel was with their daughter. When she finished, they walked Mel to the door.

"Thank you for that," Cason said. "How was she?"

"Kendel is always a wonderful kid. We all love her, you know that," Mel answered.

"Yeah…"

"You know, Dean is really great with her."

"Yeah, he is. Who would have guessed that our fearless leader would be such a good parent?" Cason asked jokingly.

"He…he really likes you, you know. He may be a good hus—"

"Mommy! Daddy can pull off his finger!" Kendel squealed in delight from inside. Mel smiled and headed off to find her husband.

"Can he? He can pull his finger off?" Cason walked inside to find Dean showing Kendel the "pull my finger" trick, which was endlessly amazing and amusing for her. As she was watching them, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She was shocked to see Cas standing behind her, a pile of books in his arms.

"Cas? What's going on?" she whispered, stepping towards the back of the cabin so that Kendel couldn't hear her.

"I heard from Dean that you wanted to take down Lucifer. I do not think it can be done, but if you're going to try, you'll need to read these books. Maybe you can find something that we missed," he said, handing her the tall stack.

"What would you know about killing the devil?"

He laughed. "Ah, I see Dean left out one small detail in his story. I used to be an angel. After Sam said yes and Dean continued to say no, the angels left Earth, taking my mojo—as Dean calls it—with them. I am now human."

Cason nodded and stared at Cas, trying to picture the stoned hippie man as a nearly all-powerful being. She could see it a little bit around his eyes, in the way that he was—in many ways—just as tired as Dean. Instead of asking for any further explanation, she took the books, set them on a table, and he went on his way. She would look at them later, after Kendel was asleep, but for now, she as going to play with her daughter.

And so they played. Well, as much as they could with Kendel having to stay in bed with her IV. They played I spy, and made up stories and played pretend. They took the time and did normal family things: they ate dinner, they got ready for bed, and had story time. It was when they were tucking her into bed that she asked the uncomfortable question.

"You're my mommy, right?" she asked.

Cason wondered where this was going, but humored her daughter. "Yes, I am your mother."

"And you're my daddy, right?"

Dean looked at Cason, eyebrows raised, wondering the same thing. "Yeah, I'm your dad."

"Then why don't you live with us, Daddy? In all my books, mommies and daddies and kids live together."

Cason and Dean stared at each other, not entirely sure what to say to that. Dean got his voice back first. "You'll have to ask your mother."

That wasn't the response that Cason had been hoping for. "Well…because Dean isn't my husband, he doesn't live with us."

Kendel's brow wrinkled in thought. "So…if he was your husband, Daddy would live with us?"

Cason sighed, trying to figure out how she was going to explain this one. Kendel solved the problem for her. "Couldn't Daddy live with us? Please, Mommy?" she begged.

Dean grinned, a playful glint in his tired eyes. "Yeah, Mommy? Can't Daddy live with you?"

Cason sighed in exasperation, but of course she already knew the answer.

"Okay. Daddy can live with us."


	14. Beds

**Author's note: **Thank you for your patience, readers, while I was studying for my graduate entrance exam. I am now done with it, and back. Yay! Thanks to everyone who read/favorited/put this story on alert. Your support is awesome. Also, thank you to **DanniMitchell85, me09, sianybananay, kazza03, BlueEyedPisces, and tvmaniac2008 **for reviewing. Reviews keep me going! Anyway, please review and let me know what you think! Thanks!

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It took them all of half an hour to move Dean's stuff into Cason's cabin. He only had a few changes of clothes, some books and charts, and of course a full arsenal of weapons. The weapons were the first things to be moved in; they put them on the highest shelves in the cabin, well out of Kendel's reach. The shotguns went on the top shelf, the pistols on the middle shelf, and the various knives and sharp objects on the bottom. Dean's clothes went in the baskets and were tucked under the bed beside Cason's and Kendel's. The charts and books went beside Cason's on the shelf.

Kendel was positively delighted with the entire process. She wanted to help, but couldn't even carry the small things. She did make sure that everything went in the proper places. When they didn't have enough space on one shelf, she offered to move her things, something that made her parents smile. When she pointed out that they needed to push the beds together, both Cason and Dean froze and stared at her.

"Why would we do that?" Dean asked finally, almost afraid of what she would say.

"So that we're not all squished!" she answered, as if it were common sense. Cason's eyes widened, and Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, not really sure what to say to that. Their conversation about sleeping arrangements had been short and slightly awkward.

_"So, about the bed situation…" Dean had started. _

_"We should maybe…stay in separate beds, maybe…"_

_He thought of how strongly he had reacted to just one of her kisses. Yeah, she was probably right. They probably shouldn't be sharing a bed—not with Kendel in the middle of it. _

_"Right. I'll sleep in the little bed."_

And that was all they had said about it. She hadn't thought too much about what Kendel was going to say about their sleeping arrangements—why she hadn't thought about that was ridiculous; she should have known that Kendel would ask. The joys and challenges of parenting.

"Daddy is going to sleep in the little bed," Cason said quietly.

"Why? He sleeped in our bed when he was sick," Kendel chirped.

"That was a little different," Dean answered, stepping in to back up Cason. "I slept in your bed because I was sick. But I'm all better now, so I have to sleep in my own bed."

"Mommy says that when I'm a big girl, I can have my own bed. I think I'm a big girl."

Dean looked to Cason, clearly not sure how to handle this one. When Sam had been a kid, he didn't spend his time worrying about beds and whether or not Mommy and Daddy were married. They had been raised like warriors, and Kendel was a whole different ball game.

"That's up to your mom," Dean finally answered, figuring that he couldn't go wrong with that answer. From the small grin on Cason's face, he figured that he had been right.

"When can I have my own bed, Mommy?"

"Let's get Daddy settled in for a little bit before we start talking about you getting a bed, okay?"

Kendel looked a smidge disappointed, but she was too excited about the fact that Dean was moving in to let it upset her too much. They had waited until she was healed enough to leave the medical cabin—five days after Faye's funeral—to move Dean into their cabin. Kendel was still sleeping more than usual, but according to their medical textbook, that was fairly normal.

"Nap time," Cason said, shuffling her daughter into bed. Kendel nodded and didn't bother to fight her on it. She was sleepy, and the excitement of moving Dean in had taken a lot out of her. After she had settled in, Cason turned to Dean. "Do you want me to watch her, or do you want to do it?"

"It doesn't matter. I can stay," he said, glancing over the supply lists that Chuck had given him that morning.

"I'll go do a perimeter check and make sure that the sparring sessions are going alright. We really do need to find an indoor space for that, by the way—"

"Well, keep an eye out for it and we'll discuss it later," he said, walking her to the door. She buttoned her coat and pulled on her gloves. Before she could further bundle herself up, he grabbed her hands and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. He felt her sigh of satisfaction against his lips as she came back for another kiss. He gladly gave her one.

"Be careful," he whispered as he pulled away.

"Always," she answered, hugging him quickly and tightly against her. "I'll see you when I get back."

He watched as she walked away in the snow, taking the route that she usually took when she went on a perimeter check. She looked so alone out there in the snow, even though he knew that she did this all the time. She did perimeter checks, she oversaw the camp; before this camp, she had run hers and kept everyone alive. She would be fine, he knew, but it didn't make him worry any less about her.

If not for Kendel, he probably wouldn't be as worried. He would worry about her if she were just his girlfriend—though that wasn't really exactly the right term for it—but the fact that she had a child made him worry that much more. She was the mother of his child, and the thought of being a single parent terrified him. As much as Kendel loved him, she was her mother's child. She was a tough little girl, just like her mom.

As he ran over the supply lists, he realized that they would need to make another run soon. They were low on paper products and dishwashing detergent, as always. Perishables were running low, but that was the nature of perishables. They had plenty of canned or boxed food to last them for a while. Medical supplies were fine since their emergency run. Damn paper and dish detergent. If not for those few things, they wouldn't have to go on half the runs that they went on.

He studied his new home, and found that he liked it. Of course, he hadn't moved in solely because Kendel wanted him to. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't wondered about what it would be like to live with them, to have a family. But it was never something that he had seriously considered; not because he didn't want it, but because he never thought that it would happen. Cason was so insistent that Kendel come first—and that was the way that it should be—that he had never thought that she would ever consider it.

Their relationship was complicated enough as it is without them moving in together. They kissed, they hugged; there was _something _there, but neither of them were defining it. It was almost a habit to think of her as his girlfriend, but every time he corrected himself. They hadn't put that label on it yet, and "girlfriend" almost seemed like it was too flimsy a term. She was more than that. They were going to make this work, because Kendel was involved, and that was that.

Kendel was currently snuggled up in the big bed with three blankets and two sets of sheets, a small smile on her face as she slept. Just looking at her brought a smile to his face. She was still favoring her arm—rightfully so, considering that there was still a hole underneath it—but they were keeping a close watch on it and things were looking good. She wasn't in pain anymore, which was a huge relief to both of her parents. And, of course, Kendel was still smiling. Even with that hole in her arm, even though she couldn't play like she used to, she was still a happy child.

The world was shot to hell—demons, croats, and Lucifer were about—and his daughter was smiling. There was a shelf of guns in the bedroom, and she was smiling. Of course, Cason was generally smiling these days. When she had first come to camp, she hadn't smiled all that much, but she had come to loosen up. The longer she was there, the more she would smile. Even when she was bent over the books on Lucifer and demonology that Cas had given her, she would look up and see him or Kendel and smile.

Of course, since Cas had given her the books, she had been with them nearly every moment of her free time. When she wasn't handling problems in the camp or looking after Kendel, she was bent over those books. She was burning the candle at both ends; when he woke up in the morning, he found her reading those books and taking copious amounts of notes. When he was drifting off to sleep at night, he saw her studying those books. She had made up her mind to know as much as she could about Lucifer and what they were facing. She had been interviewing him, asking him all sorts of questions about Sam and freeing Lucifer—everything about angels and demons that he knew, she knew. She had done the same thing to Cas. He respected that, but he could see how exhausted she was.

When she returned from her perimeter check, he could tell that exhaustion was taking its toll. She tripped coming up the stairs and was barely able to catch herself. When she saw him staring at her, she blushed furiously.

"Watch it. That last step will sneak up on you," he said quietly.

"I see that…now. The perimeter was secure, though we might need to replace some fencing come springtime. The ice and snow are taking their toll. How are we on supplies?" she asked.

"We'll need to make a run for paper supplies in a week or so. I'd like for some of the snow to clear out first if we can wait that long. We have enough food so that we won't need to make any major food runs for a while," he answered. "And we've got plenty of medical supplies for Kendel."

"Good. I was thinking about the sparring sessions and how we need to find an indoor space for them. Maybe we could use the dining hall. We can move the tables to the sides and use the main space. We would have to go in shifts—maybe the women and then the men—but we could make it work," she said.

"That would work. But what would work even better is if you got some sleep," he told her.

"I'm fine, Dean. Please don't lecture me."

"Cason, if you're not sleeping, you're tired. Being tired makes you sloppy, and we can't afford for anyone to be sloppy right now."

"I know that," she whispered, trying not to wake Kendel. As a precaution, she pulled him into the bathroom and cracked the door. "I know that, but I think I've got something on this Lucifer thing."

He froze. She had something? He shouldn't be surprised considering how smart she was, but he had been over everything with a fine-toothed comb and hadn't been able to find a damn thing that could help him. Maybe it was the fresh eyes.

"What did you find?"

"I've been talking to Cas, trying to get him to tell me everything about angels and demons and the whole thing—"

"That's why you've been asking me all those questions about my past," he said, making the realization. She nodded.

"Cas mentioned that Alistair used a chant that was about to expel Uriel from his body—"

"I don't remember this," Dean interrupted.

"It was during the fight over Anna," she explained. He could tell from her tone that she wasn't a fan of Anna's. He wondered if it was because Anna had slept with him or if it was because she had tried to kill him. "Alistair was using a spell that was kind of like an angel exorcism. It forces the angel from its vessel, but doesn't kill it. What if we used that on Lucifer?"

"Did Cas know the spell?"

"Not…exactly. But I'm sure we can find it somewhere in all of this—"

"And if we can't?" he asked, frustrated at the gaps in their knowledge.

She sighed in frustration. She was trying to find a solution that didn't involve killing the angel and the host. This one wasn't ideal, but it was the only one she had found so far that would allow Dean to still have his brother at the end of it all.

"We'll find a way. We have to," she whispered. "I can't let Lucifer ruin the world with Kendel in it. And I was hoping that maybe one day, I could meet Sam. Your Sam, not Lucifer-possessed Sam."

He studied her for a minute, and she couldn't read his expression. After a moment, he kissed her gently on the forehead and held her tightly against him, not letting her go. She leaned against him for a long moment, letting him support her, just for a minute.

"There's too much left to chance," he finally whispered. "What if the spell-chant thing only worked because Alistair was a demon? What if it doesn't work for us because we're human? This isn't something that we can afford to get wrong. We have to get it right the first time. If we get it wrong, we're dead."

"So we go in with a sure-fire, kill-Sam way?" she asked, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"You're…I want my brother back. But chances are, Sam's not in there anymore. And we have to go with the surest way we can find. If that means that killing Sam, that's what we have to do," he said. She could hear the hatred in his voice and knew that he hated what he was saying.

Cason sighed and tried to fight the disappointment that was welling within her. She hadn't expected this reaction; she had thought that he would be glad that she had found a way to save Sam. Instead, he seemed almost closed off to the idea. If she hadn't been so exhausted, she may have been able to hide her disappointment, but she couldn't. She tried to keep Dean from seeing it, but she couldn't.

"Cason…I didn't…I want your way to work. I want it to, and if we can prove that it would work, I would use it in a heartbeat. I just…up to this point, it didn't matter if I died trying to save the world. I've always known that I would die bloody and violent, but it didn't matter as long as the world was safe. But now there's Kendel…and you—"

She silenced him with a kiss. Unlike the brief one from earlier, this one was long and lingering. She was pressing against him, trying to get closer when there was no room to do so. It was like there was a fire in her, and the more she was with him, the brighter and hotter if burned. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he took her hands in his and held them tight. When they finally broke the kiss, he was breathless and speechless.

"I, um…that was…" She trailed off, unable to find the words.

He kissed her gently on the forehead and held her tightly. "You're shaking."

She grinned lopsidedly. "You have that effect on me sometimes."

"Do I now?" he asked lightly with a smile as he ran his fingers over her neck. She gasped lightly as chills went down her spine. "Funny, you have that effect on me, too."

"What are we going to do about Sam?" she asked quietly, playing with the necklace that she knew Sam had given him.

"Keep looking into this angel exorcism that Alistair used. I'll look for other possibilities," he answered. "Now, where were we—"

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Mommy? Daddy? Are you done in there? I have to potty!"

Dean watched as Cason's face turned bright red. He stepped away from her and pushed the door open. Kendel was looking well-rested and doing the potty dance. As soon as they stepped out, she shot past them to the toilet. Cason smiled.

"I guess it was an emergency."

When Kendel came out of the bathroom, she grabbed Dean's hand, begging to get to go anywhere that wasn't the cabin. She had been inside for too long. He glanced at Cason, who nodded slightly.

"Your mom and I need to go to the dining hall. You think you can take us?" Dean asked.

Kendel giggled and nodded, pulling on her coat; Dean and Cason did the same. The little girl smiled and took her father's hand in hers. Instead of holding her mom's hand, she slipped it into Dean's. Cason didn't pull away, and they walked across camp to the dining hall, hand-in-hand.

When they walked inside, they could see the crews inside already making dinner. Kendel stood with her parents, not daring to run into the kitchen. Faye used to work in the kitchen, and the little girl didn't want to go in there without her. Instead, she just clutched at Dean's hand. He picked her up and carried her around while he studied the room.

"I think this could work for sparring sessions," he said. Cason was studying it closely, but nodding in approval.

"You're gonna fight in the dining hall?" Kendel asked in amazement. "What about the tables?"

"We'll move the tables, sweetie. What do you think?"

She looked deep in thought for a moment and then nodded. "I think it'd be okay."

Dean smiled and kissed the little girl on the nose. "Okay, then. If you think it'll be okay, that settles it."

Kendel smiled, and they got a few big plates of food to take back to the cabin. They ate dinner while Kendel told them all about the dream she had, complete with Daddy riding a unicorn and Mommy climbing a rainbow. After they got her bathed and ready for bed a few hours later, she was exhausted. After they tucked her into bed—complete with a bedtime story from Mom and little song—"Bad Company"—from Dad, the little one was sound asleep. She had Dean's thumb tight in her grasp, and wasn't letting go, even in sleep.

"You can have the big bed tonight," Cason whispered. "She's been excited about Daddy moving in all week, and I'd hate to ruin that."

"Is this what we're going to do? Trade out who gets to sleep with Kendel?" he asked quietly. She knew what he meant, but she wasn't sure how exactly to handle it. What were they, exactly?

"I don't know that…I don't know that it's really a good idea for us to be in bed together, especially with the way that we…react to each other. And we haven't exactly…defined this thing that we have…" She trailed off, completely overwhelmed by how incoherent she sounded.

"You're Kendel's mom. You're my right-hand woman," he said simply, like that explained everything.

"And you're her dad. I just…we kiss and we…I mean, you mean something to me. I hate to call you my boyfriend because I feel like it's more than that. I mean, not that I'm talking about long-term, marriage stuff, not like that. I mean…you're her _dad_, you know? God, I suck at this…"

He laughed. What a pair they made. "I'm not much better at it. But, I'll put it this way. You make me not want to die a bloody, violent death. You and Kendel are the reason that I want to survive this thing. You're giving me something to come back to, and I…I know what you mean about it feeling like you're more than just a girlfriend…I'm awful at this."

She laughed and kissed him lightly. "You're my…significant other."

It had a good ring to it. He liked it, he decided. "Yeah. Yeah, we are. Now, significant other, let's go to bed."

He took her by the hand and pulled her into bed with him and Kendel, and she didn't fight him on it. She fell asleep in his arms, snuggled between him and Kendel, and slept better than she had in a long time.


	15. Sending a Message

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay. I got distracted with other fandoms and school...mostly school. Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter-kazza03, DanniMitchell85, me09, BlueEyedPisces, and Snluver18. You guys are awesome. Please enjoy the chapter and review!**

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"I'll take this supply run. You've taken all of them since I got here, and it'll be good for Kendel to have some bonding time with her daddy," Cason whispered to Dean as they made their way to the bathroom. In the month that Dean had been living with them, the bathroom had quickly become the place for the adults to talk while Kendel was still asleep. It was either early in the morning, late at night, or during her nap; it was currently early in the morning.

"Are you sure? The last run that you went on was—"

"I know," she said quickly, cutting him off before he could get Faye's name out of his mouth. "I'll be fine. It's just a little milk run. Grab the food, hope for some toilet paper, and return to camp. I've got this."

He smiled at his significant other. Because it was still early, her hair had yet to be brushed and it was sticking out in all directions all over her head. He imagined that his probably looked similar, and he probably had dried drool on the corners of his mouth. If he did, it didn't seem to be bothering Cason in the slightest.

"You'll go tonight?" he asked.

"That's the plan. I've already talked to Frank, Cas and Yaeger. We'll leave at sundown and be back by first light."

Dean nodded. He knew the drill. She was following the same procedure that he did, so it wasn't anything new. Except that now he would be the one staying here with Kendel—something he hadn't done before. And now that Faye was gone, he wasn't really sure what to expect. It had been a long time since he'd been alone with a kid.

"How does Kendel usually handle this kind of thing?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed and rested her head on his chest.

"She's used to it, unfortunately. She'll want to sleep extra close to you; she might not actually sleep at all, but she won't cry or anything. And try to keep—"

"Her routine as close to normal as possible. Got it."

Cason smiled and kissed him lightly on the mouth. She pulled back quickly, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She grabbed their toothbrushes and handed him his. "Morning breath." He laughed quietly and took his toothbrush from her hand. She took hers up and they quickly but thoroughly brushed their teeth. Afterwards, they tried again.

"Much better," she whispered.

"Yeah? I think we can do better," he answered, kissing her more deeply. She leaned into the kiss even more, sliding her arms around his neck. He put his arms around her waist and a moment later, she found herself sitting on the cabinet beside the sink. She felt the comforting warmth of his body as he stepped closer and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Suddenly, Dean stopped and stepped away from her. Somehow, he had managed to hear the pitter-patter of Kendel's tiny feet on the cold wooden floor over the sound of their heavy breathing. Cason slipped off the cabinet just in time for their daughter to come walking through the door.

"Why are you always in the bafroom when I get up?" Kendel asked, staring at her parents.

"We didn't want to wake you up, that's all," Dean said.

"Oh…I need to potty—"

"We're going," Cason answered, quickly pulling Dean from the bathroom. "I'll handle my breakfast duty and then I'll head back up here to get some sleep. What's your day look like?"

"We've got to repair the fence on the far north corner, but that's all I've got planned. And I already talked to Mel about keeping Kendel. She said that she would love to, so don't worry about that."

She smiled, knowing that Dean had stopped to think about her and Kendel. H e was thinking like a father, scheduling, worry about who was going to watch Kendel. She was slightly in awe of her significant other; he ran the camp, he looked strategized, he looked after their daughter. He though of everything.

"Good thinking." She stood on her toes and give him a light kiss on the lips.

"Kissing!" Kendel cried as she came out of the bathroom. "Mommy, that's not 'propriate for me!"

Cason smiled. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Now Mommy has to go do breakfast, okay?"

The little girl nodded and started to pull on her father. As Cason walked out the door, she could see Dean pick Kendel up and throw her over his shoulder. Her daughter's squeals of delight echoed across the clearing; Kendel's delight was reflected in Cason's face as well.

Breakfast was a piece of cake, so to speak. She baked the biscuits and supervised while the rest of the crew made grave, bacon and eggs to go with them. Within an hour, everyone had eaten, everything was straightened up, and she headed back to the cabin for a nap. Dean dropped by after he dropped Kendel off with Mel, and found Cason snuggled up in bed, her eyes quickly falling closed. When she heard his footsteps, she smiled but didn't open her eyes.

"Come to check on me?" He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her lightly on the forehead. The kiss sent shivers down her spine and her eyes bolted open. "Mmm…don't do that. I need to sleep, and that makes me want to…not sleep."

He raised an eyebrow in an expression that clearly said that what he had intended. He kissed her again and whispered sultrily in her ear, "What does it make you want to do?"

"It makes me want to drag you down onto this bed and ride you like a midnight train to Georgia," she said with a smile. Dean kissed her again, more deeply than before. She pulled away and tapped him on the chest. "Sleep…I have to sleep."

"Alright. I'll see you later." His voice held the promise of more to come, and it was damn hard to let him walk away. As soon as he was gone, she was asleep in minutes.

When she woke up, dusk was creeping over the camp. Kendel was playing outside with Dean, who was grinning like a jackass eating briars. Cason watched their daughter run and jump into her father's arms; she quickly dressed and joined them for dinner.

Kendel knew her mom was going on a mission, and she spend the whole time sitting on Cason's lap. When Cason tried to get up to clear her plate, the little girl held fast to her mother. When time came to say goodbye, she squeezed her mother as tightly as she could, not wanting to let go.

"Kendel, I'll be back in the morning, okay? Don't cry," she said quietly. "Mommy loves you bunches and bunches."

The child kissed her mother on the cheek. "I love you too. Bunches and bunches."

She ran to her father, who whispered something in her ear; then she took off running to Mel. Dean turned to Cason and studied her for a moment before whispering, "To hell with it," and kissing her, not caring that half the camp was watching. They had kept public displays of affection to a minimum, but they didn't really care too much at the moment.

"That was a kiss for good luck. You think it was enough?" he whispered.

"Damn straight." She kissed him again lightly. "Take care of Kendel—"

"I will. I love you. Take care."

The words slipped so casually off his lips that she almost didn't realize that he'd said them. He didn't really realize that he'd said them, but once they were out of his mouth, he didn't take them back. They were sleeping—only sleeping—together; they were raising a child together; he panicked a little bit when he woke up and found that she wasn't in bed anymore; he couldn't imagine the camp without her. Yeah, love seemed like the right word.

"I love you too. I'll see you when I get back."

She climbed into the passenger seat; Yaeger was driving and the others were in the backseat, cradling shotguns on their laps. Cason had her machete strapped to her thigh, her pistols tucked into her jacket. She was on high alert for the entire ride, constantly looking out the windows for any potential warning signs of an attack. For Frank, who was used to seeing this side of Cason, it was nothing new. For the others, they were all slightly intimidated by this other side of Cason; they were used to Cason the mother-woman.

It was nearly midnight when they rolled into the small town and hid the Jeep in the edge of the woods near the grocery store. With Cason in the lead—guns at the ready—they descended on the grocery store. As soon as they stepped inside, Cason pulled the door shut behind them and chained it shut.

"Yaeger and Frank, take the perishables and grab any non-perishables that we can fit in the car. Cas, you come with me. We're on a mission for any sort of paper product that can double for toilet paper. We'll meet back here in half an hour and go from there. Also, before we get into any serious scavenging, find the entrances and put devil's traps on every one of them. I don't want any demons getting in here."

There was a chorus of "yes ma'am" as they fell out. Cason grabbed a sharpie from off the school supplies aisle and made her way to the back entrance. When she got there, she found it already open and immediately raised her weapon. The hairs on the back of her were standing up; something wasn't right with this. Beside her, Cas held his gun in a white-knuckled grip.

As she sketched the devil's trap on the floor, she heard a sickening crunch. Looking up, she saw Cas hit the wall and slide down it into a heap on the floor. He was still alive, but unconscious and his nose was bleeding and his eye was already starting to swell. She tried to stand, but instead found someone pushing her to the floor, a heel grinding painfully into her back.

"I've heard a lot about you, Cason. It's good to finally meet you," a smooth voice said. She tried to look up, but the foot only ground harder into her back.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped.

"You should know. You've been spending copious amounts of time researching me. I'll give you a hint: you want to ride my vessel's brother like a midnight train to Georgia."

"Lucifer," she whispered in realization. If this was Lucifer—and she was almost positive that it was—she knew that her life was over. She mentally cursed herself for not being more careful; she was wondering if Franks and Yaeger were still alive.

"They're still alive," Lucifer answered before she could ask the question. "I've no intention of killing them. I really only want to talk to you."

"Well if you want me to listen, you need to let me up off the floor. I want to see who I'm talking to."

He removed his heel from her back and offered her his hand. She just stared at him in disgust and pulled herself up off the floor. Lucifer was wearing a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders—Sam Winchester, she knew. Sam's body was clad in a charcoal grey suit with a white tie. She didn't like it at all. Sam didn't look like a suit kind of guy.

"You're trying to find a way to end me," Lucifer said simply. "Why?"

"You've destroyed my world. Why wouldn't I want to end you?"

"I could snap your neck with a snap of my fingers. You have to know that this search is going to prove fruitless. I am one of the most powerful beings in the universe, and you're trying to end me with a little spell? You have to know that this is going to fail."

"If I'm going to fail, why does it matter to you?"

Lucifer stared at her for a long minute as if he wasn't sure what to make of her. She stared straight back at him, never breaking eye contact, refusing to be the one to give in first. When he finally spoke again, he sounded almost…wistful.

"I think you pose an interesting challenge. You're looking for a…solution to your problem using finesse. Dean is more of a brute force kind of man. Between the two of you, I will be very entertained."

"So you're talking to me because you think I'm amusing?" she asked, confusion and hatred strong in her voice.

"Not exactly. I do find you amusing, but the fact of the matter is, I want to talk to Dean. And the way to Dean is through you. Well, ideally, it would be through the little girl, but she's not available."

Cason stiffened at the mention of her daughter; she knew that Lucifer knew about her, but hearing it come straight from his mouth made the threat seem that much more present and real. She clenched her hands into fists and fought back the urge to throw a punch and run.

"Sam misses his brother. I sent someone to tell Dean this, but he didn't listen. So now, I'm going to have to take a more dramatic approach." He stepped closer to her, but she didn't back up. She was determined that if he ended her life here, she wasn't going to go out as a coward. He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around and forced her against the wall. She didn't scream, but she was fighting back the rising hysteria that was threatening to overtake her.

"You know that it would be so easy to have you—in the Biblical sense—right now if I decided that I wanted to," he whispered in her ear. She clenched her jaw tightly and tried not to let him see how terrified she was; it didn't work. "But that's not what I want. I want a conversation with Dean, and he's not going to speak to me if I did that to you."

"If you hurt me, he's not going to speak to you."

"No. You see, he would do nearly anything for you. He'll talk to me."

Lucifer pulled a knife from his pocket and with a few swift strokes, Cason's shirt was gone. He continued to hold her tightly against the wall, barely giving her the space to breathe, let alone move. She tried to fight back, seeing where the exchange was going, but it was useless. He was an angel, and she was human. She wasn't going anywhere until he decided that he wanted her to.

She felt the press of the knife blade against her skin, and then he was cutting her. They weren't deep enough to do any severe muscle damage, but they were deep enough to hurt. She gritted her teeth, trying not to shriek as she pulled the knife across her back, carving a message into her back. If she had any money to bet, she would bet that this was going to scar—which was the point, of course. If she didn't scar, if Dean didn't have a reminder of this every time he looked at her, Lucifer would see it as a failure.

There was too much blood flowing down her back and she was fighting not to lose consciousness. Every time she thought that she was about to drift off, he would jerk the knife a little deeper and wake her up with a shock of pain. Finally, he decided he was done and let her go. Immediately, she slid to the floor, leaving a bloody stain against the wall.

"Have your men take you back to camp. You path will be clear. And be sure that Dean gets the message. Otherwise, I won't be so kind next time."

And then Lucifer disappeared, leaving her alone and bleeding on the floor.


	16. Christmas Turkeys

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone who read and subscribed to this story. Y'all are awesome and I'm glad that you're enjoying the story. Also, a huge thank you to **DanniMitchell85, Snluver18, kazza03, BlueEyedPisces, me09, and Helluo Librorum **for your reviews! Reviews keep me going and they let me know what's working and what isn't. So, please, I beg of you...just drop me a line and let me know that you've read! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for your patience in waiting for me to update!

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When they pulled into camp, Cason was wrapped in Cas's shirt and freezing her ass off. Some of it was because her only coat had been sliced open and rendered unwearable when Lucifer decided to turn her back into a message board. The blood that had been flowing down her back had frozen, which was far from comfortable. They had tried to make a bandage out of her shredded shirt, but she had bled through it in a few minutes.

"Go straight back to camp," she had ordered them after they had loaded the needed supplies in the Jeep.

"You don't want us to take the evasive paths?" Frank had asked.

"No. The way will be clear, and we don't want to give away our paths back to camp. Let's just get home."

And they had gotten home quickly. Too quickly, actually. When they pulled into camp, no one was waiting to greet them. No one was expecting them to be back until sun up and it was still pitch black outside. Mel Yaeger was the first person to come up, probably because she hadn't been asleep in the first place. After Mel got moving, the rest of camp followed. Dean and Kendel came running out of their cabin, still in their pajamas. There was a tense, worried expression on Dean's face, a smiling expectant one on Kendel's.

"Mommy!" Kendel cried, reaching for her mother. Cason gave her daughter a quick kiss on the cheek and a tight hug, ignoring the pain in her back. Dean smiled tightly at her, knowing that something was wrong but too smart to ask her about it in front of Kendel. So instead of asking her why they were home so early, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close for a long minute, taking in the feel of her against him, glad to have her back in one piece.

"How was Kendel?" Cason asked, trying to take a box of cans out of the back of the Jeep. Her muscles were complaining and she could feel the cuts in her back pulling open. It was all she could do to keep herself from dropping the box and crying out, but she managed to make it to the supply cabin. It didn't seem to matter, though; Dean saw right through her.

"Kendel was fine. But you're not. Why are you back early?" he asked.

"Long story, and not one we can discuss in front of Kendel." He nodded tersely in response and left quickly to go direct everyone in putting things away. Cason took a moment to pull herself together, to stop and take a deep breath and try to keep the pain at bay just a little bit longer. She kept herself together until they got everything put away. If anyone noticed the bloody stain on the back of Cas's borrowed shirt, no one said anything about it.

Unfortunately, Kendel noticed it the minute that they got settled back into their cabin. As Cason was tucking her back into bed, the child wrapped her arms tightly around her mother and came away with bloody hands. Immediately, her eyes widened in terror and she began to cry. Cason very calmly lead her daughter into the bathroom to wash her hands and put her back to bed.

"You're bleeding, Mommy," she said, clearly scared.

"It's okay. Mommy's fine. You know how sometimes you get a little cut that bleeds a lot?" Kendel stared at her mom with wide eyes, but nodded in understanding. "That's what happened to me. It looks a lot worse than it is, so you don't need to worry about me. Daddy's going to patch me up and I'll be just fine."

"Can I see?"

Cason froze, not sure how to get out of this one. She had just lied to her daughter; she couldn't very well show her the wounds on her back. Kendel would be terrified if she saw them. Dean noticed her hesitation and immediately became more curious and more concerned. They didn't shy away from showing Kendel wounds, especially if it was just a little scratch, like Cason claimed.

"Not right now," Cason finally answered. "Right now, you need to go back to bed so that you're not too tired to help Mr. Chuck tomorrow."

"But Mo—"

"No buts, Kendel. You heard your mother," Dean said, stepping in. Kendel stared at her parents for a minute and realized that she didn't have much of a choice. So she let her parents give her hugs and kisses, tell her yet another bedtime story, and she closed her eyes. She didn't fall asleep right away, so her parents slipped into the bathroom. Immediately, Dean started tugging at Cason's borrowed shirt. She grabbed his arms, her nails digging into his skin, trying to stop him. Only then did he realize that he was hurting her and he quickly let go of the shirt.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I, um…I had the pleasure of meeting Lucifer," she whispered.

"What?"

"When we were in the grocery store getting supplies, we split up into two groups to put devil's traps at each of the entrances. Lucifer got the drop on us and , um…"

"He did this to you," Dean finished. "What did he do? Let me see."

"Dean—"

"What did he do?"

Very slowly and carefully, Cason pulled Cas's shirt off and turned around. Blood was smeared all across her back, and it took him several minutes to get the makeshift bandage off without reopening the wounds. He gently took the bandage and wet it, trying to wipe away the blood without hurting her. The whole time, she was silent, trying not to let him see how much she was hurting. He could feel the tension in her muscles, and was painfully aware of how much he was hurting her. When he was finally able to read what the message said, he froze.

_You did this. _

"Son of a bitch," he whispered. "Goddamn son of a motherfucking bitch!" His hands tightened on her shoulders, but she didn't flinch. Whatever it was that Lucifer had carved into her skin must have hit a nerve. She reached up and covered his hand with hers.

"What does it say?"

"It says…it says that I did this. And he's right."

"You did this? Not so much. It was definitely Lucifer," she answered, squeezing his hand comfortingly. She knew that the sight of those words etched into her skin was hurting him, so she turned to face him and sat on the edge of the bathroom cabinet.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. That demon said that Lucifer wanted to talk to me. If I had listened and gone to meet Lucifer—"

"You would be dead right now. You can't bargain with the devil—"

"We don't know that. We don't know what he does know and what he doesn't. That's the fucking problem. He's everywhere."

"_I'll give you a hint: you want to ride my vessel's brother like a midnight train to Georgia."_

"It makes me want to drag you down onto this bed and ride you like a midnight train to Georgia," she whispered, remembering the words she had used with Dean the day before.

"Now's not really the time."

She stared at him for a moment before realizing that she had spoken aloud. "He said that to me. He told me that I wanted to ride you like a midnight train to Georgia. He knew that. He's watching us."

The minute the words were out of her mouth, Dean pushed himself away from her suddenly and violently, and she knew that she had misspoken. Before he could get out of the bathroom, she cut him off, stepping in between him and the door. He couldn't push her out of the way; he wasn't the type to do that to a normal, non-evil human. His expression was begging her to move, to let him by, to let him out the door. But she didn't budge.

"Where are you going?" she whispered, sounding almost…lost.

"Away. Away from you and definitely away from Kendel. He sliced you open to prove a point to me, to send me a message. If I'm not here, he's going to leave you and Kendel alone. Now move."

Cason stared at him for a long time, anger in her eyes. He was trying to do what he thought was right. It was easy enough to see that he really did believe that he was doing the right thing, but that wasn't what was going to happen. She wasn't going to let him leave her, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him leave Kendel.

"Leaving isn't going to make us safer, you know. It's just going to isolate you from us, and maybe that's what Lucifer wants. He's trying to screw with your head, and it's easier to do that if you're alone."

"It wouldn't make you safer? Of course it would. By being close to you, by caring about you, I've painted a bright red target on the back of your head!" he said, trying to keep his voice down. Couldn't she see that he was trying to do what was best for her and Kendel?

"And you think that leaving is going to fix that?"

"Yeah, I do."

She was silent for a long moment before answering. "You're more full of shit than Christmas turkey," she whispered.

"I what?"

"You're more full of shit than a Christmas turkey. Leaving is not going to make us safer. He already knows that we're important to you. If he somehow knows what we're saying, then he knows everything. He knows all about you and me and our…significant otherness. He'll know about Kendel. And he'll know that you're leaving because of how important we are to you. You would just be confirming what he already knows."

"Cason—" he started, only for her to cut him off.

"If you're going to leave, you're going to have to tell Kendel, because I can't. She's going to be heartbroken. I mean, no matter how much you tell her that you love her and that you're doing this to protect her, all she's going to remember is that her daddy's gone. "

Dean stared at her, saw the determined expression on her face, and knew that she was right. He wanted to be able to make it all better by leaving her and Kendel—not because he wanted to leave, but because it was a solution that he actually had some control over. He wanted to believe that if he just tried hard enough, he would be able to make this okay for them. But Cason was right. He could try to make things right, but this wasn't the right way.

"How did you get so smart?" he asked, kissing her gently on the forehead.

"It's a gift, I guess."

"And what was that expression again?"

"More full of shit than a Christmas turkey," she answered, a smile spreading across her features. She leaned heavily against him and sighed contently as he wrapped his arms gently around her.

"That expression doesn't even make any sense. I'm not going to eat a turkey if it has shit in it."

Cason's laughter was immediate and unhindered, and shortly, Dean joined her. It was good to laugh together; it had been far too long since they had done so. These days, it seemed too much like the world was caving in on them; with the threat of Lucifer looming over their heads, they had nearly forgotten how to laugh. But in that moment, standing in Dean's arms, laughing in spite of the fact that Lucifer gunning for them, Cason was happy.

It took several minutes for them to stop laughing, and by the time they were finished, Dean's sides were aching and he was struggling to catch his breath. He felt Cason's body against his and knew that she was feeling the same. Maybe it was wrong to be laughing when the world was falling apart, but he strongly suspected that it wasn't. It was times like these when laughter was more important than anything.

He glanced down at Cason, who looked like a wild woman. Her hair was disheveled and there was blood on her face from where she had tried to push her hair back. There was blood and dirt on her hands, and she didn't exactly smell like roses. But that was okay. All of it—the hair, the blood, the dirt, the smell—showed how strong she was. She was a survivor.

"Dean?" she whispered. "Can you…can you, um, I need to get cleaned up, but I don't think I can get all the blood off my back…"

He kissed her gently on the lips. "Call me when you need me." When he slipped out of the bathroom, he found Kendel sitting up in bed, her stuffed animal mouse clutched tightly to her chest. Her eyes were wide and she looked a little bit afraid. As soon as she saw her father, she reached out to him. Unable to refuse her anything, he sat beside her on the bed.

"Mommy's hurt, isn't she?" the little girl asked, climbing into her father's lap.

"A little bit, yeah. But she's going to be fine. It's just a scratch."

"Why does Mommy get hurt so much?"

Dean stared at his daughter, who was asking questions that no four year old should ever have to ask. Even Sam hadn't asked that when he was four. He remembered the first time he noticed that he father was forever getting hurt. He remembered the way that his father hadn't lied to him and hadn't told him that everything was going to be okay. He remembered the way that he worried about his dad every time he went out on a job. That wasn't going to happen with Kendel; not his daughter. Wrapping his arms around her tightly but gently, he explained, "You know how there are bad things out there in the world?"

"Like the dem—demons?"

"Yeah, like that. Well, your mom fights them. She fights them and wins, so they don't like her very much."

"They try to hurt Mommy?"

"They do. But your mom is really strong and really great, and they're not going to get her. And I'm not going to let them. I'm not going to let them touch her. Or you. We're going to keep you safe, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now go to sleep." Kendel climbed back under the covers and let her father tuck her in. Before he slipped back into the bathroom to help Cason, Kendel was asleep.

When he came back into the bathroom, he found Cason sitting in the tub, twisting around and trying to reach all the bloody places on her back; clearly, it wasn't working. When she noticed him standing in the bathroom, her first reaction was to cover herself with the wash cloth. Only then did she realize that he would need it to get the blood off her back. Shyly, she handed him the washcloth.

"We've got to stop having bathtub moments like this," he said lightly as he took the washcloth and gently ran it across her back.

"They weren't all bad," she replied, thinking of the time when she had walked in on him in the shower. Immediately, the thought made her blush.

"Aside from the blood and the fact that you're alone in tub, this one isn't so bad." She could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke. His hands were gentle as he cleaned her back, taking special care not to reopen the cuts.

"I don't think we'd both fit in here."

"We'll have to try the shower, then. Not now, but later." His voice made her want to try it right then and there, but she was exhausted and was more than ready to climb into bed and sleep for a week.

"I'll hold you to that," she answered, glancing at him over her shoulder. He grinned.

"You can count on it."


	17. Worries and Surprises

**Author's Note: **Thank you to **BlueEyedPisces **and **Helluo Librorum **for reviewing the last chapter. Here is another one, and I hope you enjoy it. Also, there is a reference to Dean's silver ring in this chapter. Yes, I am aware that after "Changing Channels" is mysteriously disappears. However, for the sake of my story, he still has it, since losing it was never explained in canon. Also, please reivew! =)

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Dean stayed, but Cason hadn't convinced him to give up his overprotective streak. He still didn't want her going on missions, but she didn't let him keep her in the camp. After taking a few days to let her back heal well enough not to open the wounds when she moved, she was going again like nothing had happened—sparring and doing her duties again. In the time that she was down, though, she got the idea in her head that she was going to teach Kendel to read. Four years old was perhaps too young, but she decided to try it anyway.

It was turning out to be a bigger project than she had initially thought. Not because Kendel couldn't get the letters, but rather, because she was so eager to learn more. She remembered the sounds that each letter made and was eager to show anyone who would listen—and nearly the whole camp was ready to listen—that she was a big girl who knew her letter sounds. And when Cason didn't have the time to teach her new letters and sounds, Kendel was asking anyone who could read—which was pretty much the whole camp—if they would teach her more.

Finally, after a week of Kendel following Cason around as she tried to oversee the camp, Mel Yaeger took pity on the mother and offered to finish Kendel's education. She had been a school teacher before the world went to hell, and was perfectly qualified, even if she hadn't taught anyone in five years. Kendel was happy as a clam, and the arrangement left Cason and Dean free to oversee the running of the camp. A week and a half after Cason's run-in with Lucifer, Dean ventured back out on a mission of unspecified origin.

"Where are you going? We just came back from a mission a week ago and we're fine in all supply departments," Cason asked. "I don't understand where you're going."

"Something came up," he answered shortly.

"And you don't think that I need to know what this something is? Because I'm your second in command, and if something goes wrong, I need to know where you're going and why."

He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Nothing is going to go wrong. It's going to be fine."

"Well, where are you going?"

"I'll be back in the morning, and then you'll see. I love you." He kissed her gently on the lips before giving Kendel a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Take care of your mom for me, okay?"

"Duh," she answered, like he was being completely silly asking her to do something like that. "Hurry up and get back. I'll know more letters by the time you get back, and I'll halfta show you, okay?"

"Okay. Remember, Daddy loves you bunches and bunches."

She smiled and giggled hugged him tightly. "I love you too, Daddy."

And then he climbed in the Jeep and was gone. Cason took her daughter back to their cabin and reviewed their letters. In five days, she had learned fifteen consonants and two vowels. The two of them climbed into the bed, snuggling close to one another for warmth. The bed felt oddly large without Dean in it; Cason had gotten very used to having Dean in bed with her. She had grown used to feeling his arms around her and the way that he always laced their fingers together before he drifted off. She had gotten too used to him singing classic rock songs to Kendel. And now, without all those things, the cabin seemed oddly empty.

"Mommy, can you show me more letters?"

"We have to go to bed, sweetie. When you wake up in the morning, Daddy will be back," Cason whispered.

"Do you miss Daddy when he goes away?" Kendel asked after some thought.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Well, I miss you when you hafta go away, and you look all sad when Daddy goes away. So I think that you must miss Daddy."

"I do miss him."

"Because you love him?"

Cason was quiet for a long time before she answered. How did she explain things to Kendel without Kendel hearing wedding bells ringing? Cason had never been one of those girls who planned her own wedding when she was a little girl, but Kendel was already expressing interest in the whole marriage things—most likely because of the circumstances of her upbringing. She decided for the direct approach.

"Yeah, I do love him. Your father is a good man, and I miss having him around when he's gone."

"'Cause he can't hug you anymore?"

Cason smiled. "It's…a little more complicated than that."

"It's a grown up thing?"

"Yeah, sweetie. It's kinda a grown up thing."

"Okay." Kendel snuggled in close and squeezed her mom's hand in her tiny, chubby one. "Mommy…I like sleeping with you and Daddy, but I'm a big girl now, and big girls get their own beds." She said this as if it were common knowledge, like Cason were a silly grown-up not to realize this. She had been discussing the same thing with Dean for the past few days, especially since she noticed how gently Dean had been treating her mom. She was young, yes, but she still noticed those little things.

"I'll talk about it with your father when he gets home," she answered, though she knew that it was probably time for Kendel to get her own bed. Under normal circumstances, she would have had one a long time ago. They had the bed; it was just a matter of letting her use it. It was a step that she had put off for far too long, she realized. It was time to let her little girl grow up.

"Okay. G'night, Mommy," Kendel whispered, before rolling over and quickly falling asleep. Cason wished that she could do the same, but found herself unable to. Instead, she continued to lie in bed with her daughter's hand in hers and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out where Dean could possibly be. He hadn't told her where he was going, which meant one of two things: either it was a milk run where nothing could possibly go wrong (unlikely) or it was a dangerous mission and he didn't want her coming after him if he didn't come back. That seemed more likely, though she couldn't imagine him going off on what could potentially be a "final mission" without warning her or saying a more significant goodbye, especially to Kendel.

After far too long spent pondering the situation, Cason realized that she wasn't going to be able to sleep, so she got up and went to her desk—piled high with books and maps and all the various other things that she used on a thrice-daily basis. She looked at her notes, and specifically at the incomplete Enochian chant that would drive an angel from its vessel. Cas had looked at it, but said that it was above his pay grade and he didn't know how to complete it, which begged the question of how Alistair had gotten ahold of it. But quite frankly, she didn't really care anymore about the ins and outs of all of it; she just wanted to find the missing pieces of her puzzle and find a way to end the whole damn apocalypse.

She looked over her notes again, but found her thoughts returning to Dean and where the hell he could possibly have gone. It wasn't that she wasn't capable of running the camp on her own—she knew damn well that she was—she just didn't want to. She didn't want to have to consider what would happen if Dean's Jeep never came back. What would she tell Kendel? How would she tell the rest of the camp? What the hell would she do with the Impala? She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Dean would be back with the sunrise and everything would be fine.

As much as she tried to push all her worry out of her mind, she couldn't bring herself to do so. She couldn't sleep for the worrying, and eventually gave up on getting any work done. After all, you can only clean your guns so many times, and all the knives were already sharp enough. With a sigh, Cason climbed back in bed with Kendel and waited for dawn to come.

Cason heard the hum of the Jeep's engine just as dawn was breaking. Immediately, she pulled on her coat and dressed a half-asleep Kendel in her coat and boots and was carrying her hurriedly to the gate to wait for the Jeep to stop. As soon as the Jeep had stopped—before they even turned off the car—Cason was waiting outside the driver's side door. Inside, she could see Dean staring at her, his eyebrows raised in alarm. Yaeger and Cam stared at her inquisitively from the back seat of the Jeep. Frank and James, who had also been waiting for the Jeep, were staring at her in curiosity.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, as soon as he stepped out of the car. She could see him looking them over for any blood or signs of injury. Finding none, he relaxed just slightly.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. I just…I didn't know where you were and you didn't leave any instructions about the mission and I kept thinking that you would only leave instructions if it were a really easy run or if you knew that it was going to be super dangerous and didn't want me to come after you, and that one seemed so much more likely because—let's face it—we're in danger all the time and I couldn't help but thing that you weren't going to come back and I was scared and I couldn't sleep—"

Cason didn't stop talking until he pulled her roughly. Between them, Kendel stirred but didn't open her eyes. When they pulled away, Dean draped an arm around is daughter and her mother and stood there like that for a long moment. Finally, he pulled away when he heard Kendel mumble, "Daddy, you're squishing me."

He laughed loudly and took Kendel from her mother, spinning her in the air. Despite the cold and the snow that was starting to fall from the sky, they lingered beside the Jeep, enjoying their moment. Dean finally broke their peaceful moment.

"You worried about me, huh?" he asked playfully.

"You didn't tell me where you were going, and you didn't even tell me that you were going until half an hour before you left. It wasn't planned, and that was concerning for me."

"Well, I'm back, safe and sound and in one piece."

"Good. Now let's get the Jeep unpacked and then you can hit the sack," Cason said, moving towards the back of the Jeep.

"I'll get it. I'm completely wired, and you look like you're about to fall asleep. Go get a short nap and I'll be up when we're finished unloading," he answered. She stared at him, unsure of what exactly to say; there was something that was too off about the whole thing. Every time before, he would take Kendel back to the cabin to take a nap while the others put the supplies away. Why the change.

"No, I'm fine. I can handle it. You go ahead and take Kendel back to the cabin."

Cason caught Frank's eye and nodded at him. Dean stared at her questioningly, but didn't argue when Frank pulled Kendel from his arms and whisked her off towards the dining hall. As soon as Kendel was out of sight, Cason turned on Dean and crossed her arms over her chest. He stood his ground between her and trunk of the Jeep.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" he asked, too innocently.

"This isn't like you. You always take Kendel to the cabin so that you can get some sleep. You didn't tell me about this mission until the last minute. So what the hell is going on?"

Dean stared at her for a long minute before taking a step towards her; she didn't back down. Instead, she took another step towards him, determined not to back down. Frustration was evident in his face, though he didn't look angry or hurt. Instead, there was a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Cason stared at him, not sure what to make of the situation. Her gut was screaming at her to trust him—he was the man that she loved, the father of her child, and her leader—but everything about the situation was telling her to reach for the pistol that was in the waistband of her pants.

"Can't you just trust me?" he asked with a tiny smile.

"This whole thing is unlike you, and I need to know why. Erratic behavior is one of the first manifestations of the croatoan virus. I need to know that you're still okay."

"If I'm not, that means that Yaeger and Cam aren't okay, either. They've gone and infected the rest of the camp."

"I'll blow up that bridge when I get there. Right now, I know that Frank is keeping our daughter safe, and I'm hoping that I won't have to blow away the man I love. Prove to me that you're still you."

"Go to Frank, get Kendel and stay in the dining hall. Frank can escort me around camp while I put things away; if I'm infected, he can take care of it—"

"No. If anyone has to take you out, it's gonna be me," she said shortly, her mouth set in a firm line. The slight smile had faded from his face and was replaced with something more serious. He took a step towards her, completely non-threatening, his eyes begging her to believe him.

"Want to get rid of me that bad, huh?" he joked, though it fell flat.

"You're the man that I love. If an ally has to take you out…I would do it. I would want to be there…with you. I wouldn't want you to die alone…I mean, without someone who loves you."

"Cason, I'm not infected. Let Frank escort me; he won't have to take care of things, and you'll still be able to be with Kendel. Cason, please give me this. You won't regret it, I swear," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her before she could pull her gun on him.

"Let's go. Frank's in the dining hall. You've got forty-five minutes. Is that enough time?" she asked quietly, pulling away.

"That should be enough."

They made their way over to the dining hall, where Cason quickly explained the situation to Frank, who listened with wide eyes and a serious expression. He quickly glanced at Dean, who stood smiling—his serious expression gone—outside the door. Frank pulled his pistol out of his jacket and left to escort his fearless leader across the camp.

"Mommy, where's Daddy going?" Kendel asked, watching Frank and Dean walk away, concerned about the gun in Frank's hand.

"He's going to put away the stuff that he got on his trip. Then he'll be back to see you."

"Okay. Will you show me more letters?"

Cason smiled and was once again thankful for her daughter's eagerness to learn as it took her mind off the fact that her father had very nearly been marched off at gunpoint. She tried to push her suspicions from her mind and focus on her daughter. So, she tried to focus on Kendel and the letters at hand. Quickly, Kendel picked up on the letter and began make the sounds over and over again. Forty five minutes and two letters later, Dean and Frank reappeared, smiles on their faces. Cason breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

"You ready to go home?" Dean asked. He was still himself; Frank would have recognized the signs of infection by now and let her know. He was still her Dean.

"God, yes," Cason said, leaning against her significant other.

"Yeah! Can we take a nap, Daddy?" Kendel asked, throwing herself into his arms. He smiled and nodded as he held her tightly against him for a moment before starting towards the cabin. Cason noticed the faint lines around his eyes and knew that he was exhausted.

"When we get back, we'll all lay down and take a nap. How does that sound?"

"Super good!" Kendel chirped. Dean put her down a few feet from the cabin, and she pranced ahead. Cason beat him through the door by a few steps, and he nearly ran into her when she froze in the doorway.

On the smaller bed in the room was a yellow and purple bedspread, complete with the matching pillows and a Kendel's small stuffed animal mouse. Kendel, of course, was already across the room bouncing on the bed and squealing with delight; she didn't need someone to spell it out for her. She knew that this was meant for her; she knew that it meant that she was a big girl and she was getting her own bed now.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Dean whispered in Cason's ear. She grinned as she turned to look at him.

"This is what you were after? You risked your life on a mission to get Kendel a bedspread?" she asked quietly, a small smile on her face. They both stared as their daughter bounced up and down, squealing with delight, on her new bed. It was completely worth the risk, and they both knew it.

"It's Christmas. She deserves a Christmas," he said.

Christmas. In the hustle and bustle of the apocalypse, she had forgotten about Christmas. It's easy to lose track of the days when you're fighting croats and demons one a regular basis, and it's not like they had a countdown calendar hanging up with some idiot announcing that there was so many days until Christmas. But she had completely forgotten it. And still, he had remembered and was giving their daughter the best Christmas she'd ever had.

"Damn right she does."

"Does this mean I get to sleep in my own bed, Mommy?" Kendel asked.

Cason smiled. "Yeah. Now, say thank you to Daddy, and wish him a Merry Christmas."

"It's _Christmas_?" Kendel screeched excitedly. "Merry Christmas! Thank you, Daddy. Merry Christmas! After we nap, can we go tell everyone else merry Christmas?"

Dean nodded as he yawned. "We can, but we have to take a nap first, okay? So hop in bed and go to sleep; when you wake up, we'll go see everyone else, okay?"

Immediately, Kendel climbs into her bed and buries her face in the covers. With the excitement from her father's surprise gift, she'll have enough adrenaline going to keep her awake for some time. Knowing that she was still awake, Dean pulled Cason into the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

As soon as the door was closed, they were kissing. It was a harsh kiss that was slightly too rough and somehow just right at the same time. Her hands were tangled in his short hair, tugging sharply and trying to get him closer to her. He held her tightly against him—too tight to really be comfortable, but they didn't really care. When they finally pulled away from one another, they were breathless.

"I've been wanting to do that since we pulled up," Dean whispered.

"That was…what you did for Kendel was perfect. Thank you. You gave her a better Christmas than I ever could," Cason said quietly.

"We gave her a good Christmas. You and me and the kid…Christmas wouldn't be the same without you." He glanced down at his hands, suddenly shy. "I, um…I grabbed something for you, too. I know that you've got enough weapons for an army, but I know that you were saying that we don't have any throwing knives, so…"

He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. Instead of trying, he pulled a medium-sized mahogany box out from under the bathroom counter and placed it in her hands. She opened it to find a pair of silver throwing daggers inside. The handles were small, and perfectly sized and weighted for her tiny hands. She held one up, testing the weight of it. Only when she was putting the knife back in the box did she notice something else.

In the corner of the box was a small, simple silver ring. She picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. Dean didn't say anything, but instead just studied her face, waiting for some kind of reaction. Finally, she took his larger hand in hers, and studied the silver ring on his right hand. It was scratched and worn, but it was still in one piece—much like its wearer. The smaller ring—her ring—wasn't worn, but it would be by the time she was done with it.

"Do you…are you asking me to wear this?" she asked quietly.

"I, um…You don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought…you're more than a girlfriend, and so I was thinking that we should…it wouldn't hurt to have a—"

"I'll wear your ring, Dean Winchester." She kissed him fiercely, tightening her fists in the front of his shirt. He took it from her and slipped it gently onto her finger—the ring finger of her left hand. She quickly removed his and placed it on the proper finger.

"I love you," she whispered, pulling him from the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Kendel had finally managed to fall asleep under the covers of her new bed. Cason and Dean quickly kicked off their shoes and climbed into the big bed—their bed—and snuggled close to one another. Cason's head rested on his chest and one leg was draped across his; he arm was slung over her waist, holding her close and warm.

"I love you, too."

She kissed him lightly on the mouth. "You didn't happen to get Christmas dinner while you were out, did you?" she asked, a last-minute thought.

"I did, actually. Since you've accused me of being more full of shit than a Christmas turkey, I had to get one just to see how full of shit they really are. It's in the dining hall," he answered with a chuckle. She laughed and kissed him once again.

This was the best Christmas she had had in years.


	18. Visitor

Two weeks after their Christmas celebration—and a celebration it was—Cason was back to busting her ass at the books. She was pouring over the notes and books that she had gotten from Cas, the records of Chuch's visions, and all of Dean's stories about the past. She had notes pinned on the walls and sprawled all over her desk with arrows. There were notes that Cason had made scrawled in the margins in bright red. Some of the notes were single words; others were full paragraphs, and sometimes they were simply arrows stretching across the many pages to another section in particular.

"Cason, come to bed. You're exhausted," Dean said from where he was curled up in the bed. He had been cleaning and sharpening the weapons until he realized that there was only so much cleaning and sharpening that he could do. He'd spent all his time since then trying to get her to go to sleep.

"I'm on to something. There are references to angels being expelled from the vessels in some of these works, but they were never accepted into religious cannon, so they were lost. But I think the key is going to be in the stuff from Chuck. It's pages and pages of stuff, and I've translated most of it—"

"And it'll still need translating in the morning. I want to find answers as much as you do, but you're running yourself into the ground. You need to relax." Dean rose from their bed and went to where Cason was sitting at the desk. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the nape of her neck. Immediately, he felt her shiver and her muscles tense.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, though her voice was thin and tired and her muscles still tense.

"Something is bothering you, and I know that neither one of us is really the sharing and caring type, but I can't fix the problem if I don't know what it is," he said, his voice sounding harsher than he meant it to. They were both tired and running on next very little sleep, which made fuses shorter and people tenser.

"I…when…" She turned to look at him, his arms still around her. He could still feel the tension in her body, and when he saw her expression, he could almost feel how much she needed to tell him something. Dark circles were a perpetual fixation under her eyes, as was the tired by determined droop of her mouth. But there was something there—he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was—that was screaming that she had something important to say. But then she sighed and the moment was gone.

"Let me finish this. I'm so close I can taste it." Upon hearing her words, Dean returned to bed with an unhappy sigh, and continued to watch Cason until he finally fell asleep.

It was three o'clock in the morning when Cason grabbed the pieces of paper off of her desk and took off across the camp. There was still some snow on the ground, and it was cold and crunchy under her boots; she nearly slipped a few times, but she didn't let it slow her down. She kept going, dead set on getting quickly to her destination. Even the moans and groans that were coming from Cas's cabin weren't enough to slow her down.

It was only after she got inside the cabin and saw the orgy unfolding before her that she slowed down. She screeched in shock at the sight of several women twisted into positions that no human body was ever mean to be twisted into. Cas—looking very damn proud of himself—was situated right in the middle of the whole thing. He was wrapped around a leggy blonde girl, and didn't even stop what he was doing when he heard Cason's screech. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Come to join the party?" he asked.

"What? No! I-I have a thing that I need you to look at," she answered, her voice still slightly squeaky.

Cas smirked at her and raised an eyebrow invitingly. "Of course you do. Go ahead and strip down—"

"That's not the kind of thing that I'm talking about, for God's sake! Do you think that you could stop dipping your wick in every inkpot in the camp and help me please?"

He sighed in disappointment, but disentangled himself from the leggy blonde; she gave Cason what could only be described as the evil whore look of death. Without even bothering to dress himself, he motioned for Cason to follow him into the bathroom. Cason tried to take a deep breath and be less tense, but it wasn't working. She was exhausted, but adrenaline was coursing through her veins and making her jittery. The jitters combined with all the naked people were making her downright tense.

"Come into my office," he said, sitting on the toilet.

"I need you to translate this," she answered, thrusting a stack of paper into his face.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, staring in disbelief at the papers in his hands. There were pages and pages of what seemed to be Enochian chants that he had never seen before. It was clearly something that was meant for higher-level angels—higher than Cas had ever been, and he hadn't exactly been low-level before his fall from grace, so to speak.

"Chuck. He saw it in one of his visions and copied it down for me."

"He just randomly copied it down for you?"

"No. I've had him giving me full reports on each of his visions for the past three months. And he handed over all his notes and copies of his books."

"I see. Well, this is…it's not anything I've ever seen before. It's definitely meant for higher-level angel. Not all of it is in Enochian, though," he told her after a quick scan.

"I know. I've already translated the sections that are in ancient Greek," she said without preamble.

"You speak ancient Greek?"

"Of course not. It's a dead language; no one speaks ancient Greek anymore. In college, I seriously considered going to grad school to specialize in ancient religious texts, which were all in ancient Greek and Latin. So I did some serious studying in those languages before I changed my mind."

"It's a shame we didn't have you before seven months ago."

She rolled her eyes. "Can you translate it?"

He stared at the several pages in his hands and thought for a moment, trying to figure out how long it would take him to do. "Give me two days and it'll be done."

"Thank you. And make sure that you bring it straight to me and don't let—"

"Anyone else see it; I know. Do you really think that this has the answers?" the former angel asked.

"I do. This is it, I can tell. I can feel it in my bones."

"Are you that's not the, shall we say, stimulating effects of our fearless leader?"

"_That _is none of your business, Castiel," she said sharply, far more sharply than she had intended. It was the sharpness—and the fact that she had used his full name—that gave her away.

"You really haven't slept with him." Cas exclaimed, his voice full of disbelief. "You've been here for seven months and you haven't slept with him? He's been living with you—"

"And our _daughter_! The state of my sex life is my concern and on one else's. I don't really see why it would matter to you, anyway. Besides, it's not like you don't have an active sex life of your own to occupy your time."

"I'm just surprised, that's all. Dean used to have quite the—"

"Castiel, I have no desire to discuss this with you." Her face got redder and redder and her tone got sharper and sharper as the conversation went on. Cas's smile just got wider and wider, taking a sick sort of joy in seeing Cason look so uncomfortable.

"I'm just saying that…from what I've heard, you're really missing out."

"You know what? I think we're done here. I'll be waiting for that translation. Don't be late with it or I'll tear your testicles out through your nostrils." With that said, she turned on her heel and quickly left the cabin, weaving in and out of naked women in various positions and states of undress.

The exhilaration that she had felt at her breakthrough was now gone. Maybe it was the fact that Cas had pointed to one of the many things about her life that weren't picture perfect. Yes, she had the man; yes, she had a beautiful little girl; yes, she was well-respected. But she was probably the only one in the entire camp that hadn't had sex with the person that they loved. Or at least the person that they were attracted to. And there's nothing like a room full of lusty men and women twisting themselves into positions that the human body may or may not be meant to twist into to remind you of how much sex you're not having.

It was an issue that both Dean and Cason tip-toed around. He wanted it, but didn't want to be a pushy asshole, especially considering her past. So instead of making any moves, Dean tried to repress the urge, or at least hide his reaction when he was unable to completely kill the instinct. Cason—for all of her grandstanding and suggestive comments about riding him like a midnight train to Georgia—still couldn't make her body cooperate with her. Dean responded to her touch, and she definitely responded to his, but the reaction wasn't always what she knew that it was supposed to be.

It felt like a betrayal, like her body wasn't as committed to him as her mind or her heart. And she didn't always have problems; he had seen her naked and wiped blood off her back without a problem. She had kissed him and fallen asleep curled against his side, and she was fine. But then, if things turned sexual, if she felt his fingers at the waistband of her jeans or when he kissed the back of her neck, her body froze.

And the biggest problem was that lately, Dean had been noticing. The problem wasn't that he was upset that she was tense or stiff; she knew that wasn't it. He was frustrated because after every time it would happen, he always asked her what was wrong, and every time, she shrugged him off with a quiet "Nothing. I'm fine." He was frustrated because he didn't know what was wrong and he didn't know how to fix it. She wasn't even letting him try, and _that _was the problem. That was the reason that he was shutting down.

She was so furious with the situation that her hands were shaking. She should be mad at Cas, but somehow, she still was. It was her fault that she was in the position that she was in, but it still pissed her off that he had kept harping on it. Outside the cabin, she stopped and took a deep breath to calm herself before she went back inside. After several minutes, her hands finally stopped shaking and she slipped back into the cabin.

"Where'd you go?" Dean asked sleepily, turning over to face the door. His hair was messy and he had sleep in his eyes. It made him look years younger.

"Cas's. I needed him to translate something for me."

"And you walked out without catching something?"

"Other than grief, I caught nothing. He should have the translation done in a few days," she answered, pulling off her shoes and putting them in their proper place under the bed.

"What'd he give you grief about?"

She thought about telling him, but decided against it. "You know, he wanted me to stay. But I told him I had other guy waiting for me at home, so…"

"So, you ever gonna to get in bed with that guy from home?"

"Uh—I—uh…What?"

"Sleep," he said after staring at her for a long moment. "Come to bed and go to sleep."

She smiled and quickly pulled on her thickest, warmest pajamas before obliging him. She rested her head on his chest and snuggled close to him, reveling in the heat of his body. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head, taking comfort in feeling her soft and warm against him. Studying her tired face, he had to fight back that protective urge that he knew annoyed her so much; but then, after what happened, who could blame him?

"I've got the early morning patrol this morning, but I'll try not to wake you up when I get out of bed," Dean whispered, trying to keep their voices down so that Kendel wouldn't hear them.

"Have you ever wondered what our pillow talk would be like if we weren't talking about patrol schedules or ambush tactics and the end of the world?" she whispered. He could feel her breath on his neck and it sent a shiver down his spine, straight into his groin, in the best of ways.

"Not really." Truthfully, it had crossed his mind once or twice, but he hadn't ever really given it too much thought because he knew that would never be the case for him. Even if the world hadn't gone to hell in a handbasket, he would still fall asleep every night and wake up every morning thinking about fighting monsters and saving the world.

"Oh…well, good night." Then her eyes fell closed and she was asleep.

He didn't go back to sleep. He couldn't, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the pain in his groin, maybe it was the frustration of not knowing what was going on with Cason. That was more than likely it. He had expected her to have some reservations about sex and the physicality of their relationship after what had happened to her, but he couldn't understand it. Sometimes she was fine, and other times it was like some kind of panic alarm had been pulled and she completely shut down. If she would just tell him what was working and what wasn't…but then, if wishes were horses, they'd all be eating steak.

He finally climbed out of the bed at 4:30 and went to relieve Yaeger at the border patrol. Yaeger nodded appreciatively and walked off without a word. It was cold—really fucking cold—and he felt it all the way to the tips of his toes, which were now painfully frozen. Time seemed to move slower, probably because he felt every second of it, but after a while he was distracted from the cold by the distinct clicking of metal fence being clipped.

Immediately, he went on high alert and made his way to the fence, where he found someone poking around in the Impala. At first glance, he could already tell that this wasn't a member of the camp. Without asking any questions, he pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans and brought it down on the intruder's temple; the guy collapsed to the ground without the slightest sound. It was only after that Dean stopped to study the intruder's face and found his own looking back at him.

"Shit," he swore. Quickly, before anyone else could notice, he threw himself over his shoulder and made his way to his old cabin, swearing all the way. He handcuffed his look alike to a pipe and quickly went to find someone to cover his perimeter control. Frank didn't look all that happy to be pulled out of bed at that hour, but the look of urgency on Dean's face was enough to keep him from complaining aloud.

When he got back to his cabin, Dean put his look alike through the mill. He sprinkled him with holy water, cut him with a silver knife, checked him over for hex bags and other charms. The only charm that he found was the flaming sun pentagram on his chest—the same one that he had—and the silver ring on his finger. Okay, so the ring didn't really count as a charm, but it was something that he had, too. Everything was exactly the same—aside from a few scars—and none of the tests showed that he was anything but human.

Slowly, the other Dean started to wake, tugging at the handcuffs binding him to the pipe. "What the hell?" he said, confused.

"I should be asking that, don't you think? Now why don't you give me one good reason not to gank you here and now?" Dean—the right Dean—asked.

"Cause you'd only be hurting yourself?"

"Very funny." Dean held a shot gun in his hands, ready to use it at the first sign of trouble.

"Look, I'm no shapeshifter or demon or anything—"

"I know, I did the drill while you were out. Silver, salt, holy water. You know what's funny? You had every hidden lock pick, switchblade, and box cutter that I carry. You wanna explain that. Oh, and the resemblance while you're at it?"

The look alike sighed in frustration, a gesture so familiar to Dean that it hurt. He'd been sighing too much in frustration these days, just like that. "Zachariah."

"Come again?"

"I'm you from the tail end of 2009. Zach plucked me from my bed and threw me five years into the future."

Dean—normal, 2014 Dean—paused for a moment, staring at himself. This was something that Zachariah would do, definitely. But then, it also seemed like something dangerous and stupid. If this really was himself from the past, if anything happened to him, he—normal, 2014 Dean—would die. Thinking about it was starting to give him a headache.

"If you're me, then tell me something that only I would know," he said, testing his past self.

Past Dean thought for a minute before answering. "Rhonda Hurley. We were, uh, nineteen. She made us try on her panties. They were pink, and satiny, and you know what? We kinda liked it."

Yeah, that was definitely him. "Touche."

"So, what…Zach zapped you here to see how bad it gets?"

Past Dean shrugged. "Yeah. Croatoan virus, right?"

"That's the one. It's efficient, it's incurable, and scary as hell. It turns people into monsters. It started hitting the major cities about five years ago, and the shit hit the fan after that." He might as well tell past Dean everything; maybe he could fix the problems that had lead to this whole mess. Normal Dean had missed his chance, but past Dean didn't have to.

"What about Sam?" past Dean asked. The question was like a knife to the heart. No, not really, because a knife to the heart would have been a hell of a lot less painful.

"There was a showdown in Detroit. He didn't make it." That's all he could bring himself to say. The rest…it hurt too much.

Their conversation was interrupted when Cason walked through the door, a tray of breakfast in her hands. As soon as she saw the two Deans, she dropped the tray, sending food scattering across the floor. Without another word, she pulled a pistol from where she had it tucked into the waistband of her pants. In the other hand, she grabbed a silver knife from her boot. Looking between the two of them, she could see no obvious differences other than their clothes.

"Cason, it's—"

"Okay? Are you really about to tell me that it's okay? There's two of you!"

"Who are you?" past Dean blurted.

"If you don't already know, it's none of your damn business," she snapped. "Hold out your arms." Both men complied, and neither of them flinched when she cut them with the knife. She also went through the drill with the salt, and holy water and the hex bag check. Finally satisfied, she put the knife and pistol on the table. "What the hell is going on? Frank said you got him out of bed this morning looking like you'd seen a ghost. I'm guessing that this would be the ghost you saw?"

Present Dean nodded. "He's me from 2009."

She stopped for a moment, staring at present Dean, a look of disbelief evident on her face. Even after everything that she'd seen, even she had trouble with the time travel concept. "How did he get here? Did he go H.G. Wells on us?"

"Who?" past Dean asked.

"No time machines involved. It was angels. Zachariah," present Dean answered.

"Oh good. Because we don't have enough trouble with actual evil angels without the obnoxious, assholish ones. Fan-fucking-tastic," she said, her brain already going into solution mode. She had read books upon books and notes upon notes about angels, and she hadn't really liked all that she read. Having one interfere with what she was trying to do was not going to make her especially happy.

"So…who are you?" past Dean asked again.

"I'm Cason. I, um…I give our fearless leader a hand from time to time."

Past Dean gave her the eighty-sixth over, taking her in. She wasn't quite as busty as the women he usually went for, but he could make an exception. Clearly, his future self had. It didn't take a genius to see that there was clearly something going on in between them. The way that they stood slightly too close to each other, or the way that he didn't seemed at all shocked about her barging in on them. But there was something else, too. The way that she pulled away when he put his hand on the small of her back…it didn't quite fit.

"I bet you do," he said suggestively.

"Jesus, you really were a letch, weren't you?" she commented. "So, what are we going to do with him?"

"We find some way to send him back," present Dean answered. "And keep him out of sight until then."

"What? You're going to keep me locked up in here?" Past Dean started to pull at the handcuffs, trying to get himself free.

"We've got a camp full of freaked-out trauma survivors. Seeing my doppelganger walking around isn't going to help things."

Cason was deep in thought, her mind whirling while she tried to think about the implications of having past Dean here with them. He was their chance to change things, to make sure that the world didn't end up in the mess that it was in. But that also meant that there were going to be some other changes. Changes that she wasn't sure she was ready for.

"Dean, can I have a word, please?" she asked quietly. He stared at her for a moment, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. He nodded and they stepped outside.

"What are you thinking?"

"He has to go back to the past. Zachariah sent him here to change the future, and he's our chance to do it. If we figure out how to stop the apocalypse before we send him back, we can tell him what to do and the shit never hits the fan. He stops it all," she said quietly.

Dean stopped for a moment, considering what she was saying. It didn't take him long to figure out why she didn't sound as enthused as he had thought she should.

"If he fixes everything, the world completely changes. We stop Lucifer and the croatoan virus, but…"

"But it means that we change, too. It means that Kendel's never born and we never meet."

* * *

**Author's Note: So, there we have it. There are several places that this can go, and I would really love to have your input on how it goes. Do they send him back and save the world at the expense of them, or do they fight it out in 2014 and see what happens? I'm leaning one way, but your input could change my mind. Also, I realize that there is a lot going on in this chapter in terms of the solution to the Lucifer problem, past Dean turning up, and Cason's issues with physical intimacy. That's a really busy chapter and I'm actually really anxious about it, so let me know what's working and what's not. Please review!**


	19. Anger, Tears, and Socks

**Author's Note: So, thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed. I have a better idea now of how exactly I'm going to end the story, so thanks for your feedback. Also, I would really super love some feedback on this chapter because I'm really super anxious about it. So, people who've been lurking out there...drop me a line. Anyway, another chapter for your enjoyment. **

* * *

Dean sighed long and stared long and hard at the woman that he loved, her words weighing heavily on him. She was right; they were looking at the chance to save the world—_save the world_—by changing everything that happened before now. The billions of people that had died in the apocalypse would be spared; they could potentially save Sam and find a way to derail the apocalypse. But in exchange, they would never meet. He would never have Cason at his back in a fight, and he would never get to see Kendel showing off her letters.

_Kendel. _

The idea of a world without Kendel didn't sit well with him. She was a bright, bubbly little girl—his little girl—and he was talking about snuffing out her existence. Cason had been raped after the croatoan outbreaks in the major cities, which had led to Kendel being conceived. Kendel wouldn't exist in a future without the apocalypse. It was too horrible to even be funny in that sick, ironic sort of way. The best thing in Cason's life—and Dean's—had happened as a result of the worst thing that the world had ever seen.

"Oh God…Dean, it's…Kendel…"

Cason looked like she was about to lose it; her face had paled and her hands were shaking. She was lucky to still be on her feet with the way that everything seemed to be spinning around her. The air felt too thin; she couldn't catch her breath, and her heart was pounding. Dean wasn't doing that much better; the only reason that his hands weren't shaking was because they were tightened into fists and gripping the edge of his jacket sleeves.

"Cason, just breathe," he said as she started to hyperventilate. He couldn't focus on what he was going to do with the opportunity given to him, so instead, he focused on Cason and in immediate present. "Just keep breathing. Take long, deep breaths."

"Dean, what are we going to do? If we keep the apocalypse—"

"We don't have an answer yet. We won't until Cas gets finished with his translation. That gives us two days to come up with an answer."

"Kendel. Oh my God…"

"Hey," he said, gripping her by the shoulders and lowering her to the steps. "We'll figure something out. We will. But you've got to—"

"Pull it together. I know. J-just let me have my moment. I'll get it out of system and I'll be fine…" And then tears overtook her. They came like a flood, streaming down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. Sobs wracked her body, though she didn't wail or scream. Dean put his arms around her and pulled her against him, trying to take some comfort in her nearness while offering her the comfort of his body. His attempt to stop his own tears was completely unsuccessful. But Cason had a point; they had to take their moment, express their grief and then move on.

After a long few minutes, and a snotty shirtfront, Cason finally pulled away from him. He held her hand, his fingers intertwined with hers. With a deep, sad sigh, she leaned against him and he leaned back.

"It's not just about Kendel, you know," she finally whispered. Her voice was raw and harsh from crying. "I don't want to forget you."

He kissed the top of her head. "I don't want to forget you, either."

"Do you think…" She trailed off, afraid to finish the sentence.

"What?"

"Do you think we would feel it? Like we would know that something was missing?"

"I don't know," he answered quietly. The truth was, he did know. His 2009 counterpart had already seen her; he would know something was missing. And even if he hadn't, he still would feel like something was off; it would be like that nagging, itching at the back of his mind that told him that something just wasn't right. But he couldn't tell her that he would feel her absence. That would hurt her, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. She was hurting enough already.

"I guess, technically, since we'd never meet, it's not like we're forgetting…Maybe it won't hurt so much…"

"We don't even know what we're going to do yet—"

"Don't we, though?" she asked. "Let's face it, neither of us is going to let the world burn when we have a chance to stop it. We're not that selfish, unfortunately."

Damnit. She knew him too well. But then, that's why he loved her. God, he loved her. But he was Dean Winchester, and that's why he couldn't keep her. Girlfriends, significant others, wives…those were for men who got happy endings.

"I'm scared," she blurted. "Is that ridiculous? I mean, I know that I won't remember, but I'm scared to forget. Not having you two is the worst thing in the world to me, and I hate that idea, but I'm also afraid to forget you. What if the world gets worse?"

"It won't," he said, his voice a hell of a lot stronger than the felt. It wasn't that he didn't believe that they would make the world better, because he did. It was that he was scared, too. Even though the world was in shambles, he was still happier than he had been in a long time. What if the world didn't get better when past Dean fixed it? What if fixing the past meant that he was on the road killing monsters until one of them killed him and left him to die alone—or worse, with Sam watching—in some ratty, sleazy motel? But even if that was the way things went, he still had to try. Like Cason said, he wasn't selfish enough not to, unfortunately.

"Think about it," he continued, before his ideas about an alternate and nightmarish future could come pouring out of his mouth. "You'll have a chance to teach those high school kids about good books. You'll be able to…you could have more than one kid. You'd still have your parents…"

"And what about you?"

"I'll have Sam and Bobby. And Cas won't be a drugged out hippie guy. And I'll know that I saved the world."

"And after that?"

"There's always something else that goes bump in the night," he said quietly.

"So you'll keep moving on? You don't think you'll ever settle down?"

"I don't know. I've always sort of decided that I'd jump off that bridge when I got there."

Cason was quiet for a long time, just leaning against him and trying to keep breathing past the pain in her chest. She knew in her mind that she didn't really have a pain in her heart, that her heart wasn't physically responsible for her feelings, but it sure as hell didn't feel that way. It felt like there was a hole in her chest a mile deep and it was never going to be full again. But her time with Kendel was limited—or was potentially—so she slowly got up off the steps and tried to pull herself together.

"Do you want to finish up with 2009 you while I go find Kendel?" she finally asked.

"Yeah. I'll come find you guys."

"She's in the supply cabin with Chuck. We'll see you there."

Before she left, she gave him a long, lingering kiss that was just a little too sharp, a little too harsh, and a little too desperate. He felt her tense in his arms, but she didn't pull away and he didn't say anything about it. Time was too short for all of it.

Cason knew that there was trouble before she even got into the cabin. Cas was standing on the porch, talking intently to Mel Yaeger. As she walked up, Mel looked at her and couldn't keep _that _look off her face. It was the look that said "Cas just told me that you and Dean have never been intimate," as Mel would so delicately phrase it. It was a look that said Cason was about to have to deal with something that she didn't want to deal with right now. Before she could get a word out of her mouth, Kendel shot out of the cabin and ran into her mother at top speed. Cason nearly fell over, but caught herself before she really lost her balance.

"Mommy! Mrs. Mel said that I could spend the night at her house and she would teach me more letters! Can I, Mommy? Please, please, please…"

If Kendel had said the same thing yesterday, Cason would have been just fine. But that was yesterday; today, the words made her feel like she was going to fall apart again. She clenched her jaw tightly, fighting back the tears, and kissed her daughter's bouncy red curls.

"Let Mommy have a talk with Mr. Cas and Mrs. Mel, okay?"

Kendel nodded, wide-eyed and excited, completely oblivious to the fact that her mother was torn between wanted to eviscerate Cas and fall to the ground in a fit of tears. Since the tears weren't a viable option, she decided that she would go with the "eviscerate Cas" option instead. She grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him off the steps; he didn't put up a fight, though he seem pretty flustered when she slammed him into a nearby tree.

"You told Mel? Really? I understand that you're into this whole orgy, group mind thing, but do you think that maybe you could keep the group's mind off my sex life? That was none of your business and not your information to share, asshole!"

Despite her harsh words and actions, Cas just stood there and grinned at her. He was _grinning _at her. Without another thought, she slapped him as hard as she was able across the face. Her hand stung from the strength of the blow, but the harsh crack of skin-on-skin contact and the way that he head snapped to the side was more than satisfying enough to make the pain worthwhile.

"Why can't you just mind your own damn business? All of you angels are just dying to meddle in everyone else's lives, putting us here and there and where ever you think we'll fit best. Clearly, you seem to think that I'll fit best in Dean's bed, but that's my decision to make, not yours. And it sure as _hell _isn't your business to spread around the camp—"

"I was just trying to help," Cas finally said, though he still had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"No, you weren't. You're trying to make yourself feel better because your whole hippy boy, druggie "have a few bongs before the lights go out" plan isn't helping. But those are your issues, not mine. So quit trying to use my business to—"

"Alright! I screwed up," he admitted, though it might have mostly been to get Cason to quit poking him so rigorously in the chest. It hurt. "But Kendel still wants to spend the night with Mel and Yaeger, and you guys could use the honeymoon—"

"Cas, you really should stop speaking before I tear your heart out through your ears—"

"Cason? What are you doing?"

Dean sounded horribly confused, which might have had something to do with the fact that Cason was pinning Cas to a tree. But all that confusion was gone when Kendel came flying down the stairs, giving him the same greeting that he gave her mother, complete with the same request. Dean looked to Cason, then Cas, then Mel and only seemed to get more confused.

"It wouldn't be any trouble," Mel said quietly.

"Please, Daddy? Please, please, please! Pretty pwease!" Kendel begged, grabbing Dean around the legs and pulling on him. Cason released Cas and stared back and forth between Mel, Kendel and Dean, trying to make a decision. Everything in her was screaming for her to snatch up her daughter and whisk her away to her cabin and never let her out of her sight. But Kendel's eyes were too full of joy and happiness at the prospect of learning more letters. She wanted this, and Cason had never really been one to deny her daughter anything. One look at Dean told her that he was feeling the exact same way.

"Kendel, are you sure that's what you want?" Cason finally asked.

The little girl threw her arms around her mother's neck and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you bunches and bunches and bunches! I love you!"

Cason wrapped her arms around Kendel and hugged her tightly. "I love you, too, sweetie. More than anything else in the world."

"Ouch! Mommy, you're hugging me too tight!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, letting her go. Kendel gave Dean a big hug, and he picked her up and spun her in a circle like a little princess. The child squealed in delight and clapped her hands.

"Let's go get some clothes packed, okay?" Dean said, heading back for their cabin. Cason followed closely behind, watching Dean with her daughter. He had always been so good with her. Kendel had never once been afraid of him, which was saying something in a world as scary as the one they lived in. She truly couldn't have asked for a better father for her daughter.

When they got to the cabin, Kendel grabbed the first outfit that she touched, not really caring if it matched or looked good together. The same went for her pajamas. In her excitement, she completely forgot to grab a toothbrush or a hairbrush or anything remotely hygiene related. Then again, that wasn't really the sort of thing that four and a half year olds think about. That's what parents were for.

"Do you want to take—"

"Mousie! Where's Mousie?" Kendel cried, realizing that she'd forgotten the stuffed mouse that she usually kept such a tight hold on. It was her favorite toy, after all.

"Mousie is right here," Cason said, handing the stuffed animal to her daughter, who held it tight against her chest. After three more double checks, they were sure that Kendel had everything, and started out for the Yaeger cabin. It was only a short walk, and it seemed even shorter to Cason, who was still fighting the urge to snatch her daughter up and never let her go.

But she did let her go, because that's what Kendel had wanted more than anything. So they left her with Mel and Yaeger after a ridiculous amount of instructions about schedules and tooth brushing and story telling. Kendel looked like she was about to start bouncing off the walls at any minute.

They walked hand-in-hand back to Dean's old cabin, where they checked on past Dean again. He was still pulling against the handcuff on his wrist, but he was still securely in place. He didn't seem too happy to be there, but he wasn't trying to gnaw his hand off to get out, either. Cason left quickly without so much as a hello; Dean made a side trip to the dining hall to get his past self some food before returning to the cabin.

When he got there, he found Cason flopping—literally—onto the bed with a loud, wistful sigh. He quickly kicked off his boots and joined her, sans flopping. She looks completely exhausted, and somehow younger at the same time. Maybe it's the fact that the world, as they now it anyway, is going to change and maybe be gone within the next few days. The uncertainty of it all makes everyone seem a little younger and a little more afraid.

"I love you," she whispers suddenly. "Just so you know."

"I love you, too…just so you know."

She took a deep breath—her thousandth of the past few hours—and started to talk. "I, um…I know that I, uh…I was…shit. Um…so, I'm going to just start talking and try not to regret what comes out my mouth. That okay? Good. Uh, so…I love you, and I love being with you. I love the way that you're an amazing dad for Kendel, and I love the way that you make me feel safe. But I also know that sometimes it doesn't seem like it. I know that you can feel me tense when you're kissing my neck or touching my back. And I know that my not talking about is frustrating. I know that. I just wanted you to know that when I do that, it's not because I'm scared of you. I'm not scared of you; you wouldn't ever hurt me and I know that, too. And I was thinking that, maybe, if you could stand it…maybe, I was thinking, maybe we could, you know…try?"

The words came out of her mouth in a rush and Dean stared at her long and hard for a minute, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had to make sure that he had heard her right, because this wasn't what he had expected to hear. Not what he had expected to hear at all. But that didn't mean that he wasn't glad to hear it.

"We could try, if that's what you want to do," he whispered. "Where did this come from?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while, but we never really had a chance. And if I'm going to lose my husband I want to have as much of you as I can while I do still have you. God, that sounds mushy—"

"And it makes perfect sense." He cupped her cheek and laid a gentle kiss on her temple. He could feel her breathing and knew that she was trying to keep calm.

"Wait," she said suddenly. He pulled away, completely startled and slightly disappointed, though, to his credit, it didn't show on his face. "I should read you the warning label. You should probably know that before…other than Kendel's, uh, sperm donor—"

"Sperm donor?"

"That's what we'll call him. Other than him, I've only done this once before."

"Once? You've only had sex once?"

"Well, the first time wasn't…you hear things about how great sex is, and then it didn't really live up to the expectation. Actually, it was…it was just unpleasant and it didn't really inspire any repeat performances," she explained shyly.

"Let's see what we can do to change that."

Then he was kissing her again, light and gentle and completely undemanding. She had complete control over the kiss, and was free to end it when she chose to do so. But she felt the kiss all the way in the tips of her toes and only pulled away long enough to catch her breath before she was kissing him again. It was only after several deep kisses that she realized that Dean had made no move to remove any of her clothes. He was waiting on her, she realized. Dean Winchester, who was desperate for some kind of control in this crazy world, was putting her in charge.

Her hands were trembling slightly as she tried to figure out what exactly she was doing. After a moment, she began to timidly work at the zipper on his coat. When the zipper got caught, Dean calmly got it unstuck for her, though she thought she could feel his hands shaking just the slightest bit, too. They finally got the jacket off and it fell to the floor in a heap beside the bed.

"Can I…your shirt?" It's amazing how the whole thing that suddenly rendered her unable to finish a complete sentence.

"If you want," he answered with a grin.

She went to work on his buttons, very slowly getting the shirt open and off. Very tentatively, she ran her hands over his chest, feeling his muscles through yet another shirt.

"You think you've got enough shirts on?" she asked playfully, though there was still a nervous tremor in her voice.

"I'm building anticipation."

"Right. It has nothing to do with the fact that it's colder than a nun's ass." He kissed her into silence, though she could feel the rumble of his laughter when he held her against him. When she pulled away, she was breathless.

"We're not talking about nuns right now," he whispered, kissing her again. He could feel her lips turned up into a grin as he kissed her, still gentle and undemanding. After he broke the kiss, she could practically feel his eyes on her and began to blush furiously. He had never been with a woman who blushed before, and he found it to be completely endearing. It took all his strength of will not to pull her down on the bed and just go, but he refrained. This is what she needed; slow and steady and at her own pace.

It took her another few minutes to get his t-shirt—the last one—off of him, and he shivered as the cold air hit his bare skin. He was completely distracted from the cold, though, when Cason straddled him and started to touch. Her movements were less hesitant, and her exploration of his chest and arms had him gasping in surprise and pleasure. When she pressed a kiss to his chest, he jerked underneath her. She pulled away, caught off guard by the sudden move.

"Was that…?" she started, unable to finish the sentence.

"Good," he said quietly, confirming. "Are you okay?"

Cason nodded and took his hands in hers, guiding them to the bottom of her thick, wool sweater. He had never been one for turtlenecks, but the way that Cason was wearing hers might make him reconsider. Slowly, he pulled the sweater over her head and tossed it to floor where it joined the rest of his shirts. Underneath, she was wearing a simple green t-shirt.

"I have too many shirts on?" he teased.

She was too nervous to come up with a witty reply, so she quickly pulled off her undershirt instead, revealing an expanse of smooth, pale skin. His fingers were itching to get her out of that simple black bra—because she was nothing if not practical, and her underwear reflected that—but until she gave him the okay, he would refrain.

"It's cold," she finally said.

"We do have covers."

"Yeah, l-let's use those." They quickly rolled off the bed and pulled back the covers. Cason was about to dive back under the covers, but then realized that she and Dean were both still halfway dressed. "I guess it would be more, uh, convenient if we undressed before we got under the covers."

He nodded and grinned, trying to keep things light. "Do you want to go first or should I?"

"Do you mind…?"

"Going first? Not at all," he answered. "Do you want to…?" He trailed off, gesturing to his belt buckle. Cason slowly took the buckle in her hands and undid it before unfastening his pants and slipping them down his thighs. The sound of the metal on the buckle brought back memories—ones that she didn't particularly care for—but she forced herself to keep going. This was Dean, not some asshole who would stick it in any hole that held still long enough. Dean, who wasn't going to hurt her.

Before she could lose her courage, she shimmied out of her own pants and slid under the covers. She couldn't bring herself to worry about undergarments at the moment, not when she was trying to focus on not letting her body freeze up and betray her. Before Dean slid into bed next to her, she couldn't help but notice just how very attractive he was in his underwear; she had known that, but seeing them again was a nice reminder. She also couldn't help but notice that both of them kept their thick, wool socks on.

They laid side-by-side for several long minutes as Cason tried to find her footing again. She hadn't been this exposed to with someone else around in…well, since Dean had cleaned her up the day that he first met her. Tentatively, she put his hands on her belly and whispered, "Um…I think I'd like it if you touched me now."

His large, calloused hands were warm and inviting as he rubbed gentle, comforting circles on her abdomen. As his fingers grazed the edges of her scar, he heard her catch her breath and felt her tense under his fingers. Cason nodded her head, telling him to keep going despite her discomfort; slowly, she released the breath that she'd been holding. Gradually, the circles started widening, his hands skimming over her hips and up her sides.

"Is this—"

"It's fine…better than f-fine. It's good," Cason gasped. "M-more p-please."

"Can I—"

She kissed him again, pretty much giving her consent to do whatever the hell he wanted. Well, until he slipped his hands into her underwear. That's when he felt her nails dig into his arm uncomfortably tight. Immediately, he pulled his hand away.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Just take them off." She started pushing at his hands, trying to make him take them off. "You're not going to hurt me. I know that. I'm fine."

He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Yeah, well, I'm Dean Winchester, and sex with Dean Winchester is never just 'fine.' I'm a damn good lay."

That drew a laugh and a kiss from her. She pushed his boxers down his legs, as if to prove that she wasn't afraid, though they got caught on around his knees and again on his feet. She tugged and tugged on them before they finally came off. They also joined the other clothes on the floor. Having proved her point, Dean carefully slipped her panties—her function, practical black panties—down and off.

"I, um...this is going to sound crude," she whispered. "But…can I be on top?"

"Well, it would be hard to ride me like a what?"

"Ride you like a midnight train to Georgia?"

"Yeah. That might be hard if you're on the bottom."

With a smile and a shrug, she slid on top of him, pressing her body against his. The last time she had felt a naked male body this close, she had been lying on her belly in the woods somewhere while he pressed her face into the dirt and forced rough, violent kisses on the back of her neck. He had ground into her and left her feeling dirty and disgusting and completely powerless. Now she felt safe. She felt safe and loved and even a little bit giddy. This was how it was supposed to be.

She could feel him pressing against her inner thigh, and her cheeks flushed once again. It wasn't like she hadn't known it was there or anything, but feeling it against her like that was something a little different. Instead of dread, she felt a bit of a thrill. She had done this to him. He was hard for her, because of what she did to him.

"Oh," Cason said, before she could stop herself.

Dean just grinned a little and reached between their bodies to position himself properly. Bracing herself for the twinge of pain that she knew would come, she kissed him as she slowly slid onto him. She didn't cry out in pain or anything—she was too strong for that—but he did feel the way that she stopped moving, stopped breathing, for a minute. Dean fought against every instinct that was screaming in him to move. It was too good, too strong, too much to just hold still. But Cason needed the minute, so he lay there—tense and breathless—trying not to tighten his hands on her hips or buck against her.

"I-I think you can move now." Her voice was tremulous, but he could still hear the humor there. "Just go easy on me." Yeah, there was definitely some humor in there.

He did as she asked, moving ever so slowly and ever so slightly, trying to let her body adjust to him. She started to move against him—small movements at first—as she tested the way that her body felt. Soon the timid, small movements of her hips were stronger and surer and her gasps of discomfort were again gasps of pleasure. When she experimentally nipped at his neck, he groaned and thought that he would lose it then.

"Jesus Christ!" he gasped.

"That'd be awkward…" She nipped again and he bucked up against her, trying to get closer, to force two separate bodies into a single space. He kissed her neck gently and felt her gasp against his neck. When he kissed again, just above the pulse point, she cried out. Her thighs tightened around his as she finally let go as a wave after wave of pleasure swept through her body. The shock of pleasure showed on her face and the expression alone was enough to push Dean over the edge.

It took them a good while to get their breath back. Cason curled up next to him, her leg thrown across his, while her head rested on his chest. She could hear the strong _thump-thump _of his heartbeat under her ear, and felt the small patterns he was tracing on her back with his fingertips. As her foot grazed his thigh, Dean peeked under the sheets.

"You're still wearing your socks?" he asked.

"My feet were cold," she said, as if it were common sense. She peeked under the sheets to look at her socks. "You're still wearing your socks, too!"

"My feet were cold," he answered with a playfully raised eyebrow. Cason laughed in response and kissed him gently and deeply. It was one of the few perfect moments in her life, and she was savoring it because she wasn't sure how many more she would get to have.

* * *

**So, there's a lot going on in this chapter with the decisions they have to make and Dean and Cason finally consummating their relationship. I tried to capture some of the awkwardness that comes with that sort of thing [especially in a situation like Cason's] as well as getting the whole "they love each other" thing in there, too. Love scenes aren't really my forte, so feedback would be really appreciated so I know what to fix. Thanks!**


	20. Conversations

Dean Winchester had always had a bit of a voyeuristic streak; there was something very exciting about knowing that someone could come around the corner or peep in the window and see what he was doing. And admittedly, there was also something exciting about walking around the corner and finding two people (unless one of them was Sam) rutting against each other in an alley or seeing them through a window. But when he peeked though the window and saw himself in bed with Cason, he didn't feel excitement. Instead, he felt like an intruder.

It took all of three seconds for Dean to realize that this situation was entirely different from walking in on two kids going at it in an alley or the back of a car. He watched himself as he was careful with Cason, as he gave her all the control in the situation. He saw the way that her hands trembled when she touched him or the way that she looked a little nervous. And in his own face—the face of his future counterpart—he saw patience. He saw understanding, and he saw something else that he didn't think that he would ever see.

He was in love with her.

As soon as the realization hit him, he looked away. Somehow in the middle of the end of the world, he had somehow managed to fall in love with that woman. Watching them make love was too much for him; it was too intimate to spoil with his voyeuristic intentions. He had intended to talk to himself, to find out everything that his future self knew about the fight with Lucifer. Instead, he was getting distracted, wondering about his relationship with Cason.

A thousand questions popped into his mind, all questions that he needed answers to. Normally, if he were at home—in his own time—he would ask Cas or Bobby, but he didn't have them here. He had already seen what became of Bobby, and Cas…well, there wasn't any reason that he wouldn't be here. It was worth a shot. It was better than standing outside a cabin and watching himself make love to a woman that he didn't even know.

So just as quietly as he had snuck up to this cabin, he snuck away to the next one. Inside, he saw several women sleeping soundly on beds shoved into every corner of the cabin and piled high with blankets. In the next one, he found even more girls sleeping the same arrangements. There was a young couple in the next cabin, sleeping quietly in each other's arms. The next was empty of people, though clearly inhabited. Finally, when he peeked in the last cabin, he found what he was looking for.

Inside, he saw Cas laying in the floor, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, surrounded by several buxom blondes in various states of undress. Without a minute's hesitation, Dean pushed through the door and into the room. The girls were sound asleep and didn't move an inch when he came in. Cas didn't move either, but instead just lie there and continued to stare at the ceiling with a slap-happy grin on his face. When Dean lightly kicked him in the ribs, he finally moved.

"What are you some kind of hippie?" Dean asked, looking around at the décor. Beads hung from the doorframes and the air reeked on incense, though he wasn't sure how exactly Cas had gotten ahold of it. It didn't seem like something that would be readily available in this world of rampant zombies and demons.

"I thought we'd gotten over you trying to label me—Woah. You're not you. Not now you," Cas said, staring at Dean. "When are you from?"

"The tail end of 2009."

"Has Dean—now Dean—seen you yet?"

"Yeah, he handcuffed me to a pipe in one of the cabins. Thankfully, he didn't think about nails in the floorboards. It took me all damn day to get it out."

"So he doesn't know that you're loose?"

"No, he was a little…occupied," Dean answered.

Cas chuckled and had a knowing smile. "Of course he was. And now you're looking for answers that you can't get from him. Ask away."

"Other than the obvious "What the hell is going on?" question, you mean?"

"It's the end of the world as we know it. Lucifer's running rampant, and Dean—the Dean that locked you in the cabin—and Cason are trying to find a way to stop him. Does that cover it?" Cas asked, still not getting up off the floor.

"What are they thinking about? To stop Lucifer, I mean."

"Cason's working on an Enochian incantation that's supposed to drive the angel from the host body. Dean's not big on the idea; he thinks it's too risky, and wants something more…concrete."

"Concrete? What have you tried so far?" Dean asked, desperate to know anything that could help him when he returned back to his time and his situation.

"So far? We've tried tracking down the Colt, but it's long gone. Dean has tried saying yes, but all the angels fled—except me, and I've been cut off from heaven. This means that there's no angel sword to kill him with, but that hasn't stopped Dean from trying to find one."

"And Cason's working on Enochian? How is that possible?"

"She has many college degrees and was able to translate from Greek and Latin. I'm working on the Enochian."

"A college grad, huh? How did I manage that?" Dean wondered aloud.

"I am still unsure about that. She seems very intellectual, and—"

"And I'm not? Ah, the joy of blunt honesty. Tell me about all this. Where do I live?"

"You live with Cason and Kendel—"

"Who's Kendel?"

"The little girl that calls you 'Daddy' and used to sleep in the bed with you. You got her a bedspread for Christmas so that she could have her own bed—"

"I have a daughter?" Dean's eyebrows shot skyward as he contemplated the idea.

"Biologically, no, but you seem to have adopted her. The child—Kendel—thinks of you as her father."

He stopped and took try to process everything. He had a family; it was the one thing that he tried and tried for in the present; he tried to keep Sam on the straight and narrow—or as straight and narrow as a hunter could get—and he had tried more than anything to keep the two of them together as a family. Clearly, he had failed if he was finding himself in a situation where his brother freed Lucifer. But here, in this broken, fucked-up world filled with zombies and a demonic virus, he had a family. A _family_; a daughter.

"How? How do I have a daughter?"

"Perhaps you should ask Cason or Dean—the other Dean. I need to return to my translation. Cason will, as you say, have my ass if I don't get it finished soon. You can sleep here if you would like," Cas offered.

"Thanks. I'll do that," Dean answered and climbed into the bed. He didn't care that it smelled funny or that Cas had probably had several of those nearly naked women in it. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes fell shut and he was asleep.

He was still asleep hours later until someone started shaking him roughly awake. He cracked his eyes open and found Cason standing over him, red-faced and looking upset. If he didn't know any better, he would swear that he saw that her eyes were red—maybe from crying—but from what he had seen of her, she was tough as nails and not the crying type. But then, he had never thought of himself as the crying type, either, and now that was what he felt like doing most of the time.

"This is not where you're supposed to be, and you know it. Do you know what kind of damage you could do, being out where your not supposed to be? Especially with all these people around," she whispered furiously, trying not to wake the women who were still asleep on Cas's floor.

"Would you have stayed in that little cabin?" Dean shot back.

"Do you know what's at stake? This is a group of shell-shocked survivors who are barely hanging on. What do you think would happen if they happened to see two Deans walking aroud? Now let's go before they wake up." She grabbed him by the arm and jerked him, hard. It wasn't enough to pull him out of bed entirely, but it was enough to be obnoxious. He followed her willingly after that.

"Why did you leave the cabin?" she asked.

"I was looking for answers."

"Fine. Stay in the cabin and I'll answer whatever questions you want. You're just going to have to wait for them. I have somewhere to be right now." She shut the door to his cabin behind her, leaving him sitting in the same room where he had been for the past day.

She took off towards her cabin, where her Dean was still waiting in bed. It had been her turn to go check on their visitor, and she was eager to get back to her bed and the man waiting for her in it. It was a refuge from having to think about the consequences of her promise to their visiting Dean. It was a pleasant refuge from having to think about a dark, dreary world that she would be living in without her daughter.

"Is everything okay?" Dean—her Dean, 2014 Dean—asked when she returned to bed. She slid in between the sheets and into her husband's arms—because, yes, she did consider him her husband—and was comforted by the warmth and nearness. He placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

"Don't ask me that. Not now."

"We'll work it out. We will. But right now, we focus on this," he said, running his warm hands over her belly. "Are you…alright?"

"With the sex thing? Yeah. I'm completely fine. Better than fine. I'm thinking about a repeat performance kind of fine."

He grinned wolfishly and began to toy with the edge of her shirt, only to be interrupted by a loud knock on their door. Without bothering to wait for an answer, Cas pushed the door open and stepped inside, not caring that Dean and Cason were clearly in the middle of an intimate embrace.

"I've got it. I finished the translation, and you're right. The incantation will expel an angel from its host's body, and if the human body is still in good condition, they should survive!" he announced, killing the mood. Cason was out of bed in a flash, snatching the papers from his hand. She settled in at what had become her research desk, and it was as if Cas was no longer in the room. She took her time reading, scribbling more notes and arrows in the margins. It took Dean all of three seconds to realize that she wasn't coming back to bed, and he slipped into actual clothes so that he could look over her shoulder at the translation.

"This is the actual incantation, here, right?" she asked, pointing to an underlined passage.

"Yes. It has to be recited in the original Enochian for it to work, though," Cas answered quietly.

"I figured as much. I think I've got it. You can go now," she said without even looking up at him. Cas looked to Dean and gave him the "you know where I am if you need me" look before quickly leaving.

Her face was too neutral for him to read, but he could guess how she was feeling. It was the combination of excitement and dread that was making Dean's heart race; if all went well, he could have Sam back. On the other hand, if all went well, he would lose Cason and Kendel. And, of course, if things didn't go according to plan, he could lose it all. He felt a flash of pain deep in his chest at the idea of being alone again; maybe he could have done it if he hadn't known what it was like to be part of a family—a functional, happy family. But now that he'd been there, done that, and damn well enjoyed it, he knew that he couldn't go back.

"Cas is right. According to this, Sam should be fine as long as there wasn't any other damage to his body. You would have your brother back. The only part that I think is going to be difficult is this bit," she told him, pointing to another part of the manuscript that she had circled.

"What is it?"

"For everything to work, you have to be in physical contact with the angel while you say it. It's the force of will and belief of the person chanting that's the key to this whole thing. The physical contact is the channel, so to speak, to funnel the energy through to make everything happen."

"So I'm going to have to touch Lucifer while chanting?"

She nodded. "Looks like."

"That's damn near impossible, and I—he, other me—only gets one shot to get this right—" he started.

"Not necessarily," Cason said, clearly thinking two steps ahead of him. When she saw the question on his face, she explained. "He could have two chances. We give him what we know, and we test it here, in this time. We take note of what works—or what doesn't work—and send him back with it. That way, if we screw it up, he can get it right."

Dean stared at her for a long moment, sheer disbelief on his face. Then, slowly, the disbelief faded into anger; he clenched his jaw and twisted his hands into fists. Cason knew that he would never hurt her, but at that moment, she could see a glimpse of the guy who had been twisted and broken enough to torture people. From what she was seeing, she totally believed him capable of it. Just not on her.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" Dean finally asked.

"What?"

"I know you, Cason. I know how your brain works, and when you say that "we" would test it, you really mean that you would test it. Lucifer would tear you apart, and you know it. When we run into him again, he's not going to be as gentle as he was with you last time, which really wasn't all that gentle in the first place. He's going to kill you—"

"So, what? We send you back to 2009 without a plan? Or worse, with a plan that's going to get him killed?"

"No! We find another way. We tell him that the plan he and Sam are going to make isn't going to work. We tell him to keep Sam from saying yes. We tell him to say yes. But we're not going to do this when it's going to kill you."

She pushed herself away from the desk and turned to face him, reaching for his hand. Feeling her touch him in the heat of his anger was a jolt; her hands were cold against his warm flesh. How could her skin be so cold when she was so passionate about this? It seemed strange to him.

"Dean, if we're going to use the do-over that we're getting, we have to make sure that we've tried all our possibilities. You know as well as I do that if you say yes to Michael, half the world is going to burn. If say says yes to Lucifer, the whole world is going to burn. If we try this now and we find a way to get it right, we can have the perfect do-over. We send the other you back, and he fixes it. This is our chance to tell him everything he needs to make the world what we want it to be. You know as well as I do that we have to take this chance."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she spoke; she had to get through to him. She had to make him understand that she didn't want to die—especially not in any way that Lucifer would have in mind—but this was their chance to _save the world. _ How many people got that chance? When she looked at him, she could see tears in his eyes, too, and it broke her heart. He understood everything that she was trying to say, he understood, and he was resigned to it.

"Alright. But if we're going to do this, we do it right. We get a crew together, we map out every step of what we're going to do, and past me comes along," Dean finally assented.

"What? No. We can't risk past you getting killed. Then this whole thing is moot."

"Or it's not. Zachariah sent him here, and Zach's not going to let him get his ass killed. Besides, I get the feeling that Lucifer won't kill him, either. He is his brother's vessel, after all. And he needs to understand what happens if he can't stop Lucifer. He goes."

With a sigh of frustration, she agreed. "Alright. You start making tactical plans; I'm going to go talk to you—other you—and then I'll get Kendel. I want us to have another day as a family before—"

"Yeah," Dean said, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. He couldn't stand to hear anything related to their family being broken up. He needed to pretend that somehow they were all going to come out of this okay. "Why are you having a word with me?"

"I told him that if he cooperated, I'd answer all of his questions. I keep my promises."

Before she could leave, he caught her hand and pulled her back to him, holding her tight for a moment. She squeezed him back, probably a little too hard, but she didn't care. He was squeezing her, too, and everything felt too sudden, too real, and too much. Everything that they had always talked about in theory was becoming real, and it was scary.

And then with a kiss on the cheek, she pulled away and was walking out the door, leaving him in the cabin, staring at maps and wondering how the hell they were going to pull this off.

When she reached the cabin where she had left Dean's past counterpart, she quickly opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind her. He was sitting slouched against the wall near the space heater, trying to stay warm, and didn't seem at all surprised to see her. He did look surprised when she sat down next to him against the wall.

"Okay. I told you I would answer any questions you had. Hit me," she said in a rush.

"Tell me the basics about you: name, age, background," he answered quietly.

"Cason Butler, age 28. I was a college student when the world got shot to hell—"

"Where?"

"Wake Forest. Working on a master's of education."

"I was an English major at Wake Forest is in North Carolina. How'd you get here?"

"I had heard that things weren't as bad out here because there was more space for people. But mostly, I drove. Picked up some people along the way and set up a camp in a wildlife preserve. We were okay until you—other you—showed up with a shit ton of zombies on your tail. I had to pack up camp and came here."

"And how long ago was that?"

"Eight months ago. Aren't you going to ask something important? Like, oh say, how to stop the apocalypse?" she asked, looking over at him.

"I can ask me—other me—those questions later. Tell me about Kendel," he ordered. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he could see her start to shut down. It was obvious to him that for whatever reason, she didn't want to talk about their—her—daughter.

"She's four. She has a favorite stuffed animal named Mousie that I got for her before she was born, and she's excited to have her own bed now because that's for big girls. She's had to watch her mother get stitched up too many times, and she lives with the threat of death or infection every day. And she's happy. Despite it all, despite the fact that she doesn't have half of what we had growing up, she's happy. That's Kendel," Cason answered, her eyes glistening.

As he looked at her, he totally believed that this woman could be his second in command. He believed that she could run the camp, and run it well. She reminded him of a mother grizzly when she was talking about her daughter, and he could imagine her being that way about the other people in her camp. She was fierce.

"Cas said that she was my daughter. That she calls me Daddy."

"She does, and she is. She loves you very much."

This made him think of yet another question. "So where's her real father?" Again, he could see that he had hit a nerve with the question, that she was going to try to get out of answering it as fully as he wanted her to. "Answer it completely and fully."

"I'm assuming that he's dead. I sent him to Kansas City on a supply run after he, uh—he, um…" She stared down at her hands. "After he had his way with me, to put it delicately."

Dean's hands tightened into fists—a gesture that she knew so well. His expression was one that she was so familiar with, and despite his anger, she was comforted by it. He was angry, she knew that. Angry that someone had hurt her. Despite the dark subject, she grinned at him.

"What was his name?"

"Ryan Hadley. But he's gone, and I'm not going to spend another minute thinking about him. Not when I have other things in my life to be grateful for. He gave me a wonderful daughter, and now she has a great father."

"So we're…together? How'd that happen?" Having a carte blanche to ask whatever question he wanted was very convenient, and more than a little enlightening. Through all of his questions, he was beginning to understand why they were together without having to ask the question.

"I blame it on Kendel. She adopted you, so to speak. But I think some of it was that there was finally someone else who understood what it feels like to have the weight of the world on their shoulders. We make life and death situations, and sometimes, it's harder than either of us can imagine or bear. He—you respect me, my strength, and it's a relief. I've never had that before," she whispered, reaching for his hand.

He let her wrap her tiny hands around his, and was shocked at how natural it felt. She wondered if she was doing the right thing, telling him all of this. But the cat was out of the bag now, and there was no going back. She knew that she probably shouldn't be holding his hand, that this wasn't helping him, that he would remember all of this when he went back. He would know what he was missing. But then, that's the point.

"Tomorrow, we're going on a mission to show you how to use the incantation to drive an angel out of its human host. It's risky as hell, and some of us are probably going to die. I might die, and you—other you, my you—might die. So, I need you to take our mistakes and learn from them. You're our do-over. Take what we give you, and stop this from happening. Please."

He studied her face, and saw vulnerability there—vulnerability that he was sure she worked very hard to keep hidden from everyone else—and knew that she trusted him. She was giving him the keys to save the world, and she was trusting him to fix it. Pressure? Yeah, sure. But at the same time, she was showing how much faith she had in him. And he couldn't let her down.

"I know it's a lot of pressure on you, I do. And I'm sorry for that. But we have to try. I don't want my daughter to grow up in this world. Not if I can do something to stop it," she said quietly.

He cupped her cheek in his palm, and nodded. "I'll fix it. I promise."

* * *

**Author's Note: So, I'm definitely apologizing for the super-duper awful delay. I might have had a little accident that might have involved breaking my computer, which is why I haven't updated in quite some time. I'm so, so, so sorry. Please don't hunt me down and shoot me. And thank you so much for your patience. You guys are awesome. **

**Also, I'm nervous about this chapter with Cason interacting with the two Deans. I know it can be a bit confusing, so let me know if you had any problems reading it. And please review and let me know what you think. =)  
**


	21. Fade to Black

When Cason stepped out of the cabin where they were keeping Dean, she made her way slowly to Mel and Yaeger's cabin, where she found her daughter looking at a book with Mel. At her knock Kendel looked up and then there was a blur of bouncing red curls headed straight for her. Her daughter was there, jumping on her and hugging her for dear life. And, naturally, Kendel was chattering a mile a minute, trying to tell her mom about all the letters she learned and how cool Mrs. Mel and Mr. Yaeger were. Cason just held on and kept her daughter close, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her.

_She can't know_, she reminded herself as she kissed her daughter's forehead. Kendel couldn't know that this was going to be the last day that she spent with her parents. Cason could barely stand the thought, so she tried to push it out of her mind. She couldn't know it, either. Not if she wanted to stay sane.

"I know the _whole _alphabet! All of them!" Kendel said, waving her arms around in the universal gesture of excitement as they walked back to the dining hall where Dean would have the crew gathered and discussing tactics.

"The whole alphabet, huh? That's a lot of letters," Cason answered as they entered the dining hall, her voice light and teasing, not betraying a hint of the panic she felt underneath. Dean and some of the guys were sitting around, looking over maps and making lists. All of it stopped when Cason and Kendel entered.

Kendel rolled her eyes like her mom had said the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "It's not _that _many, Mommy. It's only twenty-six. You're older than that, remember?"

She saw Dean laughing at their daughter's remark, and while it normally would have lightened her heart, it didn't this time. This time, it made the ache that much worse. But normally she would have laughed, and so she did this time, too.

"Did you just call me old? Because your dad's older than me. If I'm old, he must ancient," she teased.

Kendel wrinkled her nose and tilted her head in confusion. "What's ancient mean?"

"It means really really really really old."

"Oh. Well he's not _that _old…are you, Daddy?"

Dean was laughing as he answered. She wondered how he managed it. Maybe it was because he had been through it all before. He had lost his brother, his father, his surrogate father…he had lost everything. Does that mean that losing people can become customary? That maybe she could adjust to it if given enough time?

She glanced at Dean again and saw just a twinge of sadness in his eyes that no one else would have recognized and she knew her answer. No. Losing her and Kendel would hurt just as much as losing his father and his brother and all the others that he had lost in his life. No one would ever get used to losing the people that they loved. And it should be that way.

"Me? Old? No. You're only as old as you feel," he explained, taking her from Cason.

"Well what does old feel like?"

"I don't know. I'm not old!"

Kendel's laughter echoed through the dining hall and it was infectious. Cason found herself laughing along, and she liked the way it felt. She liked that it was a deep, jolly, belly laugh that left her with a heaving chest and muscle aches. It felt like old times, when she didn't have the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was perfect.

"So, what are we gonna do today?" Kendel asked.

"What do you want to do today?"

"Make mud pies."

"It's too cold to make mud pies," Cason reminded her gently.

"Oooh! I know! I'll make up a story for you, and you can help me act it out!" Kendel cried, leaping from her father's arms to the ground. She dashed out the door and they quickly followed her as she headed for their cabin. "Stay right there! I have to make up the story!"

"Stay where we can see you!" her parents called simultaneously. Kendel just glanced over her shoulder and laughed at them as she sat on the steps of their cabin and began to talk quietly to herself. After several minutes, she got up off the steps and started pacing and pointing at trees, giving them directions.

"God, she's perfect," Cason whispered.

"Well, the apple didn't fall far from the tree," Dean answered, grinning at her. Cason couldn't help but smile back as she watched their daughter playing director. The sight of Kendel doing normal little girl things warmed her to the depths of her heart. "You did good."

"I did good? I'd say that we did good. It takes a village to raise a child, you know. I think that's especially true in Kendel's case."

He put his arms around her and she leaned back into his warmth. Despite the fact that the world as they know it is about to come to an end, his arms still somehow managed to make her feel safe. In that moment, she really did feel like maybe all of this would turn out alright in the end. She wasn't really sure how, but it seemed possible.

"It might take a village, but you're a huge part of it. You're a huge part of Kendel's life, and you're pretty damn big part of the village that we've got here."

"Actually, I'm one of the smallest people in the metaphorical village—"

He kissed her quiet, and when he pulled away she might have been the tiniest bit breathless. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're a pretty damn big part of the village, too, you know," she whispered against his lips.

"Mommy! Daddy! I told you, kissing is gross," Kendel said loudly. "Stop that and come over here so I can tell you my story. It has a king and a queen and a prince in it. Daddy, you have to be the king." As she spoke, she grabbed Dean by the hand and pulled him to where she wanted him to stand. "Mommy, you're going to be the queen. Mousie will be the prince."

"You don't want to be a princess?" Cason asked, surprised.

"If I'm a princess, who is gonna tell you what to do?" And then the child was launching into her story.

"Once upon a time in a woods that was a long ways away, there was a prince. The prince liked to play outside, even though his parents told him not to. He wasn't allowed to play outside because there were croats, and they're nasty people who would try to make him sick. But he didn't listen to his parents, and one day when he was out in the woods, they snuck up on him." Kendel moved Mousie to sit beside a tree like he was playing in the dirt.

"Then what happened?" Dean asked, playing along.

"Shh! I'm gonna tell you, silly," Kendel answered before continuing. "When he saw them coming, he climbed up into a tree where none of the croats would be able to reach him. Then, he realized that he was all alone." She put Mousie on a low-lying branch of his tree. "When he wasn't home by nighttime, the king and queen knew something was wrong. They went outside and yelled for him to come home."

There was a long silence as Kendel stared at her parents, waiting for them to get the hint. Finally, they realized what they were supposed to be doing and started calling for the "lost prince."

"Prince Mousie! Where are you?" Cason called. Beside her, Dean did the same.

"When he didn't answer, they went to find him. But they took a bunch of fighting stuff with them—here, use sticks for swords and stuff—in case they ran into any croats. They snuck out into the woods really quiet so that no one could hear them coming—well, go on…start sneaking; Daddy, you're doing it wrong…that's better—and then they heard the prince calling for help.

"The king and queen saw that he was way up in a tree and surrounded by nasty croats, so they sneaked up behind them and killed all of them. Then they—you have to pretend to kill the croats, Mommy; that's better—got the prince out of the tree and went home, where they lived happily ever after. The end," Kendel finished.

By the time she finished making her parents act out her story, a crowd had gathered to watch them. Frank seemed to think that it was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life—he was laughing like it was, anyway. Some of the others looked more concerned that a child was directing a story about croats. Whatever their opinion, everyone applauded when Kendel finished her directorial debut. And then, they all lined up to be in her next story. And that was how the afternoon continued, all of them taking turns being in Kendel's stories until they had to leave to take care of their duties.

After dinner, Dean called a war council meeting in the dining hall, sending an objecting Kendel back to their cabin with Mel while they met with the rest of the crew that were going with them on the mission. It was a tough crowd—Dean had picked and chosen the people carefully, making sure that he was going to leave behind enough people that could care for the camp in their absence.

"I'm going to be very up front with all of you. Tomorrow, when we roll out of here, we're going to take on Lucifer. We're going after the devil, and chances are…not all of us are going to make it back. If you have objections to this, speak now," he said. Typically, when he was in command, Dean was in full command and didn't allow any room for discussion. But now, he was giving them all a chance to speak freely, to voice their concerns, to say, "I don't want to die and I'm staying here."

No one spoke, so Dean continued. "Not all of you are going with us. I've made a list of those who will stay and those who will come. Mal, Cam, Alex, and Risa are coming with us. Yaeger, Frank, and Cas are staying here—"

"Woah! I object," Frank called from his seat. "You need me with you. I'm the best shot you've got—"

"Bullets won't slow this guy down. They're useless."

"You need me with you. Yaeger, c'mon help me out here…" Frank trailed off as he realized that Yaeger wasn't going to support him in his argument.

"I'm in," Mal said quietly. Each of those chosen to go quietly echoed him.

"Alright. We roll out at dawn. Tonight I want you checking your weapons, saying your prayers, doing whatever. You're dismissed. If you have a problem with your assignment, see me."

Immediately, Yaeger, Frank and Cas all rushed to the front of the room where Cason and Dean were sitting. Neither Cason nor Dean was the least bit surprised, and they stopped them from speaking before any of them had a chance to voice their concerns.

"Cas, I know you want to come, and truthfully, I want you with me. But other than Cason and I, you're the one who knows the most about what we're up against. If we don't come back, you know what's going on. You know the most about Lucifer and angels and how to keep our people safe. That is why you have to stay," he explained.

"Frank, I know you're the best shot we've got. But like Dean said, a rifle isn't going to slow this guy down. Not at all. But you are my second; you always have my back and I know that I can trust you to keep things running if—or when—we don't come back. You know how we run things, the people trust you, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. I need you here to take care of things," Cason whispered. Frank nodded, tears in his eyes, and pulled her into a hug. It was a display of emotion that was particularly uncharacteristic of him, but then, she had practically told him that this was a suicide mission. That's enough to make anyone act strangely.

They both turned to Yaeger. "Truthfully, you should be going with us," Cason started. "You're a brilliant tactician, and you're by far our best driver. But we need you here."

"Both Cason and I are going on this mission…if we don't return, Kendel should be with someone that she is comfortable with, and that's you and Mel. She has a mom and a dad, and that's something that she should always have, even if we're gone," Dean continued.

"I wrote her a letter and put it in my desk drawer, just in case we don't get back. When she gets old enough to understand—and I trust that you will know when that is—please give it to her. And please make sure she knows that her parents love her more than anything else in this world…Please," Cason finished, tears spilling down her cheeks. Yaeger just nodded, unable to force the words past his lips. Without a word, he left the dining hall. Cason and Dean followed closely behind, hand in hand.

"I don't want to sleep," she whispered to him when they reached their cabin. Inside, they could hear Kendel's squeals of delight.

"You've got to sleep. I need you sharp tomorrow. Kendel needs you sharp tomorrow," Dean answered, though he knew exactly what she meant. Sleep wasn't really high on his list of priorities, either.

The door creaked open. "Mommy? Daddy? You better not be kissing out there or you're gonna be in trouble!" Kendel called through the crack in the door. They smiled at their daughter and slipped inside. Mel must has sensed that something was off, because she slipped out the cabin without saying much of anything.

"I already have my jammies on!" she cried, bouncing on her bed. The sight of her in those pink onesie pajamas brought tears to Cason's eyes. This might be the last time that they ever get ready for bed together, her last chance to help Kendel into her pajamas and she had missed it.

"I see that. Are you ready for bed?" Cason answered. Kendel shook her head, but she was clearly fighting back exhaustion. "No? I don't know. You look like one tired puppy to me."

"I'm not a puppy…I'm a person," Kendel said sleepily. "I want Daddy to sing me a song."

Cason put her daughter into bed as Dean quietly started to sing "Bad Company," the first song he had ever sung to her. As Kendel drifted off to sleep, her arms wrapped around Mousie, a tear slipped down her mother's face. Dean quickly wiped it away and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Let's go to bed. You'll need your rest," he whispered. She nodded silently. Despite the fact that their bed was only a few feet away, she let him carry her to it.

"You'll need the sleep, too," she answered, running her fingers lightly over his cheeks. He nodded again, and pulled her against him under the covers. She felt so small against him—like she always did—but for the first time she wished that she was bigger. Maybe it would do some good in the fight that was coming.

They laid in each other's arms for a long time, neither of them saying anything, and neither of them falling asleep. She finally turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely. It was a little too desperate and a little too harsh, but it was good nonetheless.

"It's gonna be fine," Dean told her quietly.

"I know. It's just good to hear you say it."

The silence that fell between them was filled with all the things that they wanted to say but didn't. To say everything that both of them wanted to say would be admitting that one or both of them wasn't going to make it back, that they weren't going to have their chance to change the way that history happened and that they wouldn't ever have their second chance. The thought of that happening was too much for either of them. But their short exchange—just those three sentences—was enough. They quickly drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

When morning came, they woke and dressed quietly, trying their best not to wake Kendel until they were good and ready. They pulled on their best battle gear—sturdy boots, thermal longjohns, jeans and multiple shirts. Cason tucked her pistols into the waistband of her pants, filled her pockets with knives, and strapped machetes to her thights. Dean grabbed his pistols and his sawed-off shot gun. Only after they were ready to go did they wake Kendel.

"Mommy and Daddy have to go on a mission. You're going to stay with Mrs. Mel and Mr. Yaeger," Cason explained.

"You're gonna have a good time with them," Dean promised her, and he could see the excitement in her eyes. Mel and Yaeger were a treat for her. As a family, they made their way to where the rest of the team was waiting, Dean carrying his sleepy daughter in his arms.

"I don't want you to go," Kendel cried, wrapping her arms more tightly around her father's neck. "When you go away, you always get hurt."

"Sweetheart, we have to go. I don't want to, but sometimes…sometimes we have to do things that we don't want to do. But that doesn't mean that we love you any less, okay? Your father and I love you very, very much. More than anything else in the world."

"Rots and rots?" Kendel asked, tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Rots and rots," Dean answered, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Can I get a good luck kiss from my girl?" She nodded and kissed her father on the cheek. "Give your mom one, too." She kissed her mother and clung to her dad, not wanting to let him go.

"I don't want you to go!"

"Kendel, you have to let go now," Cason said. The little girl finally let go of her father and ran to Mel. They piled into the vehicles and began to ride off. The entire time, Cason watched her daughter in the rearview mirror, her heart aching.

When they finally were out of view and on the road, there was movement in the backseat. Pushing a blanket aside, Dean—the Dean from the past—sat up and looked at them.

"So, what exactly is the plan?" Dean's past counterpart asked from the backseat.

Cason shoved a handful of papers into his lap and quickly explained the best she could. The entire time, the past Dean listened intently, only interrupting for points of clarification. When she finally stopped speaking, he had only one question.

"That's great, but do you even know how to get to Lucifer?" he asked.

"He'll show up. He's been wanting to—"

He was cut off when Lucifer suddenly appeared dead in the center of the road. Immediately, Dean slammed on brakes and swerved, trying not to hit him. The overcorrection sent the top-heavy vehicle up on two wheels. In the passenger seat, Cason screamed and clutched at her seat for dear life. In the back, the other Dean did the same.

"Hang on!" With some kind of miracle maneuvering, he managed to get the Jeep under control with all four wheels on the road.

"Shit! Not exactly what I was expecting!" Cason gasped. Before they had a chance to get the car back into position, Lucifer again appeared in front of them, sending the car back into a serving frenzy. As Dean struggled to get the car back onto the road, the passenger side tire slipped into a drainage ditch, flipping the Jeep. When the vehicle settled, Cason looked into the backseat to see past Dean—complete with a bloody nose—brushing glass off himself. In the driver's seat, her Dean was doing much the same thing.

"Cason, don't move."

"What?" she asked, confused. She twisted to look at Dean sitting in the passenger seat, only to feel a sharp pain in her abdomen. Glancing down, she saw a large shard of glass sticking out of her belly.

Before anyone could say anything about her wound, they heard gunfire from the road, followed by several sickening cracking sounds and wet splatters. Immediately, both Deans clambered from the car and took off up the hill, calling over their shoulders for Cason to stay in the car. Naturally, she didn't listen and staggered after them, despite the pain.

When they reached the road, they found the other Jeep flipped on it's side, the windows riddled with bullet holes and covered in blood. Mal's body was still inside the car, his neck broken. Rise and Alex had made it out of the car, but were dead in the road, their heads sitting backwards on their shoulders. They could only assume that the large, bloody splatter in the center of the road was formerly Cam. Lucifer was no where to be seen.

"Shit!" Cason swore upon seeing the damage.

"Cason, you should have stayed in the—"

"Stayed in the car, I know. But I couldn't let you two go charging off into battle on your own," she choked out. From where he was standing, her Dean could see the way that she was trembling, her knees about to give out. He rushed to her, catching her as she fell.

Blood was seeping around the shard of glass, staining her sweater and his jacket. Her breathing was labored, but more from pain than anything. His mind was in overdrive, trying to think of any organs that could have been damaged, but he was drawing a blank. All he could think of was Cason, bleeding and weak in his arms.

"You have to find Lucif—"

Then something hit Dean in the face and he was flying through the air. He slammed into the road, flat on his back. As he was struggling to his feet, he froze, completely horrified at the sight before him.

A bullet-riddled Lucifer was kneeling beside Cason, eyeing her wound with a clinical detachment that sent chills down his spine. He had lost track of his past counterpart, but he could only hope that he was hiding somewhere, watching everything that was going down. God, he hoped that he was learning his lesson.

"I told you that I wanted to speak to you, and you ignored me, Dean. I don't like being ignored," Lucifer said, the words sounding awkward as they came out of his brother's mouth. Behind him somewhere, Dean heard his other self gasp in shock. At least he was paying attention.

"You know this wound is mortal," Lucifer continued. "The glass has more than likely destroyed her liver."

"Dean, I'm fine," Cason gasped.

"Hardly. She'll bleed out slowly and painfully. She'll die gasping for air like a fish out of water, feeling the slowing beats of her heart. It will hurt like nothing she has ever experienced."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean asked, though he was fairly certain he already knew.

"I could save her. All it would take is a single touch. Stop trying to find a way to kill me, and I'll heal her," he proposed.

"No! You can't—Ah!" Cason tried to tell Dean to ignore it, that she was already dead anyway and to continue with the plan, but Lucifer grabbed the glass and twisted it, sending overwhelming shockwaves of pain through her body, stealing her breath and her voice.

"Her heart is racing. She's scared and in pain, and wondering who is going to have to tell your little girl that she's dead. You can stop that."

"Bigger picture, Dean. You have to think about the bigger—"

Lucifer twisted the glass again and she screamed, louder than the first time. Her back arched off the ground and her muscles tensed as she tried to stop herself from screaming. She grabbed Lucifer's hand and squeezed. He didn't seem to mind.

"Stop! Just stop," Dean whispered, knowing that Lucifer would hear him. "Please just stop hurting her."

"Kendel! She can't grow up in a world like this," Cason gasped. Dean stopped where he was, staring at his wife's face, understand everything that she was trying to tell him. "I love you."

"I love you, too. That's why I have to do this. Kendel needs her mom. In the past eight months, she's lost her home; she lost Faye…she can't lose her mom, too," Dean told her. "If we go, you'll heal her. You leave us alone, right?"

"I won't specifically target you," Lucifer answered. "I can't say that there won't be other collateral damage."

"That's not good enough. I want your word that we're not going to have any attacks on our camp."

"You're not really in a position to bargain right now. She's still bleeding," he said with a gesture to Cason, who was still clutching tight to his hand. With a gesture, Dean felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and glanced down to find an identical wound to Cason's. "Now you're bleeding, too. Cut a deal or you're both dead, and your daughter will be shortly after."

"Give me your word—"

"You have no place to demand things from me!"

It was only then that Lucifer realized that things weren't exactly as they should be. He glanced down at the woman clutching his hand and saw that she was chanting something—Enochian—under her breath. It wasn't loud or dramatic, but it served its purpose. A brilliant light radiated from the angel's eyes, burning away the angel that once resided there. In a blinding flash, he was gone. When Cason opened her eyes, only the bullet-riddled body of Sam Winchester remained.

"Dean?" she called. He raised his head and began to drag himself across the ground to where she was laying. "Are you…okay?"

A glance at his stomach told her that he wasn't. The wound Lucifer had made was still there, blood was still running down his belly, and he was still in pain. Despite it, though, he sat up beside her and held her hand, a calm look on his face.

"We did it. We stopped him," she whispered. "Will you…hold me?"

"It'll hurt you," he answered.

"We're both already hurting. I don't want to die alone. Please?"

"You're not dying. Lucifer was probably exaggerating. We'll get you to the Jeep, and get you back to camp and you'll be fine." His lie sounded false, even to him.

"Dean," she said, pulling him down beside her on the ground. "This is it, and you know it. Please stay with me."

Finally he nodded and lay down beside her, wrapping his bloody arms around her as they both continued to bleed in the middle of the road. She pressed a bloody kiss to his lips, pulling herself as close to him as possible as she got colder and colder. He returned the kiss, taking care to be gentle with her, though he knew that nothing could really hurt her anymore. Tears flowed freely from both of them.

"I'm scared," she told him, her voice quiet and breathy.

"Don't be. You're a good person. You'll be fine."

"You will be, too…Do you think we'll…get to be together?" Her voice was getting softer and softer, her eyes glazing over.

"Hell yes."

Then she closed her eyes and they didn't open again. As his world was fading to black, he tried to tell himself that she was just sleeping, that he was just really tired, that this was all a dream and he was going to wake up from it at any minute. The pain in his side and the coldness spreading through his body told him otherwise.

In the moment before he closed his eyes, he could see himself standing beside the Jeep. His other self, the one that could change things. His do-over.

"Stop this," he gasped to himself. "You stop this. Do you understand me?"

His past self nodded. "I will."

Then the world as he knew it faded to black.

* * *

**Author's Note: This chapter was a long one, so major props to those of you who made it through. If you did make it all the way through, drop me a review and let me know. Also, there will be an epilogue chapter that I will try to get up as soon as possible, so be on the lookout. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!  
**


	22. The Long Way Back

His body was aching from the top of his head to the tips of his toes—especially his toes. Probably. That lovely ache was telling him that he was still alive when—according to the odds—he shouldn't be. At first, he had thought that maybe death would be preferable, because he hurt _that _much. But no, he had to live; there were people counting on him. Sam was counting on him; Bobby was counting on him. As of a week ago, the whole world had been counting on him. He pulled his tired, aching body off the hard, lumpy mattress and sat up to face the day. Ironically, the sun shone brightly and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

His brother was sitting up at the table across the room with his laptop open and a piece of paper full of notes. There was a small map tacked to the wall with various different colored pins sticking out of it. Dean fought back a groan—and the sudden, overwhelming urge to roll over and go back to sleep—as he realized what Sam was doing.

Already, Sam was looking for another case. He shouldn't have been surprised, not knowing his brother like he did. They had beaten Lucifer—the morning star, the most beautiful of the angels, Satan, the Devil himself—just a week ago, and Sam was already looking for another case. Dean would have been happy to sit back and bask in the glow of knowing that they had saved the world, but that just wasn't Sam's way. Sam wanted to try to right the wrongs in a misguided attempt at redemption. He didn't seem to think that saving the world was enough.

"What, no coffee this morning?" he said lightly, trying—and failing—to hide how much pain he was in as the got out of bed and made his way to the sink.

"I figured it would be cold by the time you go up. Besides, last night I think your words were "I'm taking enough Vicodin to knock out an elephant and if you wake me up before it wears off, I'm gonna kill you." I figured I'd let you sleep," Sam answered, his voice not quite hiding the traces of his guilt.

"Yeah, well…Vicodin's worn off and I'm gonna take a shower." And when he got out of the shower, Sam would have that coffee waiting. He caught a flash of his face in the mirror and wished for the thousandth time that he had let Cas heal him when he had the chance; but that ship had sailed, and getting Cas to heal him now was only going to make Sam feel more guilty.

In the privacy of the bathroom, he took careful inventory of his bruises and lumps and decided that even though he felt like death, he was definitely better than he had been the day before. The swelling in his left eye had gone down enough for him to actually see out of it again, and all of his bruises were starting to turn that sickly shade of greenish-yellow as opposed to the dark blue-black that they had been before. He still felt the surprisingly sharp pain in his ribs when he moved, telling him that even though they were only cracked, they were still taking their time healing.

Lucifer had beaten him down, and he had survived to tell the tale.

Unfortunately, Lucifer had been wearing his brother when he had beaten him down, hence Sam's guilt. It didn't seem to matter that they had both known the risks going into it. It didn't matter that it wasn't Sam who was in the driver's seat while his body was kicking Dean's ass. What mattered to Sam was that he had felt his brother's flesh give way under his hands, felt his ribs crack, and had been helpless to stop it.

This didn't bother Dean. Not as much as it probably should have, anyway.

He had known going into it that things probably weren't going to work out like he wanted them to. When it comes to being a Winchester, things never go like you want them to. The plan itself was simple: Sam was going to get doped up on demon blood, say yes to Lucifer, and then try to keep control. Then Dean was going to come along and use the Enochian incantation to expel Lucifer from his brother's body. It wasn't a plan that Dean had liked—especially not the part where Sam said yes to Lucifer—but it was the only one that he could get his brother to go along with. Sam had argued that no one else would be strong enough to hold Lucifer in check while Dean said the incantation, and he was partially right. It was only after Lucifer had nearly beaten him to a bloody pulp, while he was gasping like a fish in Lucifer's arms that Sam was able to force his way back to the surface. As Sam had held his brother in his arms, Dean recited the incantation and focused everything he had on his brother, on getting him back.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, there had been a painfully bright light. He had kept a strong grip on his brother, even when he felt him collapsing. After the light faded, he had opened his eyes and found Sam exhausted and trembling and in pain, but it was _Sam. _

"Dean, you're—" Sam had been choking on his words, every noise causing him pain.

"I'm fine. Let's just get…the hell outta here," he had answered. Neither one of them had been in any condition to drive, and it was a small miracle that they had made it to a motel before dropping onto a bed and sleeping for sixteen hours straight. Only after that, after the worst migraine of Sam's life had faded, did they call Cas. He had shown up promptly, and his first reaction had been to heal Dean.

Dean hadn't allowed it.

Since he had returned from 2014, Sam had been asking him about what he'd seen. Dean had answered every question that Sam had asked; Sam just wasn't asking the right questions. He asked about Cas and Bobby; he asked about whether or not had had said yes. When Dean explained about the incantation, he asked where he had found it. Dean had told the truth: someone in his camp had been able to translate it from Chuck's writing.

What Dean didn't tell his brother was that he had seen that his future self was in love with the person who had translated their incantation; he didn't tell his brother that he had a little girl; he didn't tell his brother that he had watched his future self hold his wife while they both bled out and died in the middle of some abandoned road. When he got back, he had been numb. He didn't tell his brother that he had gained and lost everything in the span of three days; he didn't show Sam the picture of a red-haired woman holding a smiling chubby-cheeked kid with matching red hair that he had snatched from the Jeep.

When he had been emotionally numb and more of a violent alcoholic than usual, Sam had chalked it up to the fact that the future had been horribly bleak. Dean wasn't feeling anything with any real depth; not when a ghost had knocked him on his ass or when a pagan god had had nearly gutted him like a fish. He hadn't really felt anything because that meant feeling the loss of his daughter and wife.

But when Cas had wanted to heal him then, after they had beaten Lucifer, all he could think of was watching his future self holding Cason while she was dying. He heard his own dying words ringing loud and clear in his head.

_"Stop this. You stop this. Do you understand me?"_

_ "I will." _

And then he didn't want to be numb anymore. He wanted to feel everything: pain and joy and sadness and anger and surprise. So he had grabbed Cas's hand and said, "No. Let me feel it." Cas had stared at him long and hard for a moment before pulling his hand away and leaving Dean to feel every harsh stabbing pain and ache that Lucifer had inflicted on him.

Now, as he was stepping into the warm spray of the shower, he was still grateful for it. He wasn't grateful that he was a walking reminder to his brother about Sam's failure—though Dean didn't think of it that way—but he was grateful that he was feeling things again. No, it didn't make him feel any better about the fact that Cason was out there somewhere and didn't even know that she had helped to save the world, but at least he was feeling something again.

When he finally got out of the shower and dressed, Sam had breakfast and a cup of coffee waiting for him on the table. Sam was talking a low voice on the phone to someone—probably Bobby—about whatever it was that he had been charting. If it had been up to Sam, they would have been working a case the day after taking out Lucifer. However, since Dean wasn't in tip-top shape, he had taken to finding cases and calling Bobby so that Bobby could try to send someone else to work it.

"This is FBI Special Agent Mick Scott from the Charleston field office. I need to speak with an…Inspector Bennent. Yes, it's about the recent assaults you've been investigating. Thank you," Sam said, though it was obvious that he was trying to keep the snark out of his voice. He sat on hold for several minutes before anyone came to the phone.

"Yes, Inspector Bennet? This is FBI Special Agent Mick Scott from the Charleston field office. I've been tracking the recent assaults that you've been having in the news. They appear to be similar to some that occurred here in Charleston last year, and I wanted to confirm any details so that we can put you in touch with the officer that worked the case down there."

Sam asked a series of questions and furiously jotted down all the answers while apparently providing answers to any questions that Inspector Bennet had. Sam put three more push pins into his map as he listened, his frown getting deeper and deeper the more he listened.

"Yes, I understand. Thank you. The contact in the Charleston Police Department is Inspector Ricci. Yes, that's right, R-I-C-C-I. Yes, I'll see what I can do. Thank you, sir."

"What was that about?" Dean asked between bites of pancake.

"I've found this case, but Bobby says that there's not anyone in the area that can handle it. Or not anyone that will handle it, anyway," Sam answered. "Dean, I know you're not a hundred percent yet. I'll handle the case if you'll just come with me. Please."

He was giving Dean the puppy dog face, the one that was practically begging to take this case. It was another chance for redemption, and not one that Sam was willing to pass up. As much as Dean needed to feel something—even if that was just the pain of his own injuries—Sam needed this in the same way.

"What's the case?" Dean relented. Sam sighed in relief.

"In Winston-Salem, North Carolina in the past two weeks there, have been five women who have reported being sexually assaulted in their homes. Normally, I would just say pervert, but all of the witnesses have said that there was a fiery light outside their houses before and after. There have been burnt patches near each of the crime scenes—"

"Did the cops do a drug test?"

"Yeah. All but one have had alcohol in their system, but none of the levels were out of the legal limit."

"And the same thing happened…where?" Dean asked.

"It happened in Charleston, SC last summer. Twelve victims in a month, all reporting the fiery lights outside the window," Sam said, though his voice had a foreboding undertone in it. "Of the twelve victims, nine died. Two are in a coma and one has lasting brain damage. She can't speak. Funny thing is, there wasn't any head trauma in any of the victims. They got a fever within thirty-six hours of the attack and were dead within first two in Winston-Salem are already dead, the third and fourth are already sick, and the fifth will be sick within twelve hours."

"Have their been any other patterns between the two?"

"All the victims have been college students. In Charleston, they went to the College of Charleston. This time we're looking at Wake Forest. And all victims have shared the same physical profile: petite build, pale skin, naturally red hair."

Dean froze as his mind started to put together everything that his brother was saying: Wake Forest; petite, red-haired women; sexual assault. Before he thought better of it, his hand flew to the jacket pocket on his chest and pulled out the crinkled, well-worn picture as if he could keep her safe by staring at her picture.

He was moving before he even started talking. "It's in Winston-Salem, right? That's a…thirteen hour drive. We've gotta get moving."

"It's a sixteen hour drive, at least," Sam corrected, staring at his brother in shock. He wasn't aware that his brother could move that fast.

They made it in thirteen.

"The last victim was at a bar before she was attacked. Do you want to take the bar or the house?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't even grin at the question like the normally would have. Instead, he said, in a rushed, urgent tone, "I'll drop you off at the house and then go on to the bar. The bar's within walking distance."

He practically pushed his brother out of the car and took off for the bar, not bothering to see if anyone was home. When he pulled up in front of the bar, he had to stop and try to find some semblance of composure. He was working the case, and he was going to figure out what the hell was doing this, and he was going to keep Cason safe—even if she didn't know about it. Before he went in, he picked up his phone and dialed Bobby.

Before Bobby even said hello, Dean was already talking. "Bobby, we're working a case in Winston-Salem at Wake Forest. I need you to look up a student for me. The name is Cason Butler. Find anything and everything you can about her and call me back."

As he hung up, he was already walking inside, completely ignoring the pain in his ribs and face. Inside, the bar was smoky and dark. Most of the light in the room came from the lights over the bar, where they had a jukebox and a very impressive display of alcohol. Several pool tables were situated in the middle of the room with tables and booths pushed into the shadowy corners. With a sigh that sent a sharp pain tearing through his ribs, he pushed his way through the sea of college students and made his way to the bar.

He hadn't been in his seat more than two seconds before a bartender was there. "You look like you've had a long day. I'm betting you're a whiskey man."

And then—for a moment—he couldn't breathe. She didn't look the same as she had the last time he'd seen her, but she was just as beautiful. The tired circles that he had seen under her eyes last time were gone; she didn't have the worry lines around her mouth. The determined glint he had seen in her eyes was now playful. But her smile was the same. It was still a smile that could turn razor sharp in a minute or that could charm the birds from their nests.

"Are you alright?" she asked when he didn't answer.

"I'm doing just fine. I'm Dean," he said, extending his hand.

"And do you have a last name, Dean?"

"Winchester. Dean Winchester."

"Well, Dean Winchester, it's nice to meet you. I'm Cason. Cason Butler."

This time, his smile was genuine, and her's was too when she smiled back.

"It's nice to meet you too, Cason."

* * *

**Author's Note: And that concludes "The World As We Know It." Thank you guys for sticking it out with me and being patient and reviewing and loving Cason and Kendel as much as I do. The decision to have Dean undo it all kinda killed me, too. So anyway...I know I kinda left you with a little bit of a cliffhanger (sorta-kinda-maybe-not really), and to remedy that, I will be writing a sequel. Be on the lookout. Please review and thanks for sticking with me!  
**


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